The MetaDoctor's Tale
by laurelinwen
Summary: How did the Meta-Doctor's life unfold? How did he react to Rose, her family, and his own physiology? In an infinite number of universes, there are infinite possibilities. This is what *could* have happened, in one of them... the story told itself. Don't blame the messenger.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes:

This is just a snapshot from a much more complicated story. I've mapped it all out in my mind, but wanted to post a prologue. Don't want to give any spoilers away, but the point is that the 10th Doctor deserved better than what the show gave him, and so did Rose. Quantum theory being what it is, I figured every possibility is worth investigating. We think, therefore we are, right? ;-)

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related characters herein do not belong to me. The rights to publish anything relating to Doctor Who belongs to the BBC alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_"To be no more, sad cure; for who would lose,  
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,  
Those thoughts that wander through eternity,  
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost  
In the wide womb of uncreated Night,  
Devoid of sense and motion?" _  
-John Milton

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Prologue: A Stitch in Time

January the 1st, 2005  
The Powell Estate

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"The Universe will sing you to your sleep."

Clenching his fists against the pain, the Doctor poured some of his little remaining strength into easing himself up from the snowy ground. The high, delicate voices of the Ood began a song of compassion, ringing in a quest to ease his troubled mind. Locking eyes on the TARDIS, the Doctor took one step, then another, sucking air in through clenched teeth. Finally approaching the blue box, the Doctor took the TARDIS key from his pocket, fumbled for the lock, and leaned on the wooden door. His lanky, frail form, formerly shadowed from streetlight by the TARDIS, was quickly illuminated by the soft light within. Resting his weight against the open door frame, the Doctor tried to focus on conserving his energy for the final journey ahead.

He looked down at the metal grating, myriad thoughts reeling through his drifting consciousness. Fear of what was to come - anguish at what he had lost - anger at the utter lack of justice in the universe. His own kind had preserved the law for centuries, dealing with any and all tribulations with fair treatment, integrity and just compensation. To whom was he - last of the Time Lords, custodians of the cosmos - to whom was the Doctor to appeal for any pardon?

He had confessed to Wilfred his commitment of genocide. He had slaughtered the very souls that might have granted him retribution for better deeds. Did he deserve any more than this? Shortly after his previous regeneration, the Doctor had experienced what might well have ended in a quasi-sedentary existence. He reached his right hand into an overcoat pocket and felt the fuzzy remains of his Christmas crown - a keepsake from years ago.

Rose.

If he could have chosen any reward... The Doctor had lived too long. He had seen, heard, felt, smelled, tasted, extrapolated, kythed, snorkeled and generally gallavanted around any and all corners of the universe that interested him. When he was not looking for it, he had found something that gave more light to all of these experiences than he'd ever felt before. The Doctor had met Rose Tyler, grabbed her hand and never would have let go. Given a taste of the brilliant, brave and compassionate woman - well, nothing had been, nor ever would be the same. He had seen life through Rose-colored glasses. The Doctor could never look back. If that entailed a life of domesticity, he would hold fast to it - a generic department store could become another planet, if Rose Tyler were with him.

A new spasm of pain clouded his dark eyes, and he made every effort to stand tall. The Doctor shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the rail, slowly making his way along the metal grating. His right hand began to tingle, and he raised it to witness the first tendrils of golden mist swirling around his fingers. Clenching his jaw, he turned to the TARDIS console and set a course away from the Earth. It would not do to cause any harm to the planet below.

Martha. Mickey. Jack. Wilfred. Donna.

The Ood's song rose in a vain attempt to abate the torrent rising from each atom of his body. It struggled against the regeneration energy building inside him, moving at a slower rate in an effort to ease the rapids of golden light within. The effect gave him the sensation of moving in slow motion, each footstep lasting an eternity. It made him feel helpless. The Doctor walked aimlessly away from the heart of the TARDIS, a lump forming in his throat. He was not ready for this - he felt incomplete, unfinished, and felt a rise of panic as the tingling in his hand flared anew.

Rose.

If there were any benign force in the universe, be it in Shangri-La, Krop Tor or the Planet of the Ood, the Doctor silently cried out for another chance. He had tasted absolute contentment with her - a most welcome reprieve from his usual state of restlessness. The universe had been theirs to explore. What crime had he committed? Was he doomed forever to a life of solitude, to lose the ones he loved in this generation and the next? What hope was there for him?

Eyes full of pain, loss and fear, the Doctor raised his hand and beheld his doom.

It was not enough. He was not finished yet. Realization dawned on him, and he froze in acknowledgement.

"I don't want to go." He felt his hearts beating madly, frantically drew air into his lungs. The Doctor was drowning in a golden mist that was filling him, expanding from his core and rising to the very edges of his body. He concentrated all of his will on keeping his eyes open, a silent affirmation to his home and the people they held dear.

The pressure built until he could contain it no more.

The Doctor exploded into dazzling light, sparks flying everywhere and from everything around him. Outside, the outer hull of the TARDIS shattered, knocking the blue box off its orbit. Showers of fiery sparks erupted from the very heart of the TARDIS, as if in sympathy to the being she had guided through a near millenia.

Unnoticed by the soul in flux, two figures burst into being on either side of the TARDIS console. Both were men, and one - a true-to-life double of the Doctor himself - sped toward the living explosion, pressed his hands into the light streaming from the Doctor's face, and began to scream at the top of his lungs. The second figure retreated to the other side of the room, watching the spectacular display with visible signs of anxiety on his dimpled face. He crouched beside the flight seat, bracing himself with one hand, clutching a red armband in the other. His bedazzled eyes widened as the fireworks continued, raising a sleeve to wipe the rapidly-forming sweat beading his brow.

The Doctor and his doppelganger were locked in a turbulent embrace, particles of light streaming from one into the other in a photonic tug of war. The glow was beginning to recede from the Doctor's face, only to course into his double's body with frightening speed. The pseudo-Doctor howled, light beginning to jet from his hands and his feet. As the Doctor's body started to dim, his counterpart's facial structure began morphing into something new. The man crouching by the flight seat seemed to take this as his cue, and hurried over to the real Doctor, eyes locked on his. When brown began emerging from gold, he wrapped his arms around the Doctor's torso. He seemed to hesitate a moment, then leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on the Doctor's cheek. He abruptly turned away, hissing in pain.

"Guess that's what I get, right Doc?" said the man in an American accent. He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "At least I beat Rose to it."

With one last glance at the other Doctor, he pressed the red button on his arm band, and vanished with the real one. In one last fit of sparks, the pseudo-Doctor's wordless howl gained a steadier resonance, and nearly collapsed in a heap on the grated floor. All light suddenly vanished from his newly formed body, and he looked around frantically, patting himself to feel the differences.

"Legs! I've still got legs," exclaimed the Doctor, hastily kissing a raised knee. "Good!"


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes:

Finally finished the first proper chapter! Thank you for all of the reviews, they sincerely help. Please let me know if there are any mistakes or if you have any suggestions. I don't have an editor, so any help is welcome! It might sound crazy, but this story is my gift to the Doctor and Rose, and I want it to be worthy of them. But I won't give away any spoilers;-)

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related characters herein do not belong to me. The rights to publish anything relating to Doctor Who belongs to the BBC alone.

Chapter One: The Doctor-Donna

Bad Wolf Bay  
Alternative Norway, 2012

Nudging an errant hair away from her cheek, Rose Tyler studied the man before her. No - only half man, half Time Lord. _Not really the Doctor, then, was he?_ Did it matter that he said he loved her, or would it only complicate matters? So many questions that needed answering. She was still feeling slightly light-headed from their kiss, and was beginning to wonder if she shouldn't have acted on impulse.

The wind streamed through his unruly hair as though it too demanded an affirmation of his solidity. His eyes squinted against the sun's rays, but were directed at her. Her hand, still clasped in his, felt the brush of his thumb against her knuckles.

"Doctor," Rose began, then bit her lip in hesitation. "But you're not really the Doctor... I mean, you _are_, but- what do we call you now?"

He exhaled slowly, turning to study the sea before them and remaining silent long enough to make her doubt he had heard her. Between the roar of ocean and wind, it felt as though any sound they made was torn across the sand before reaching each other.

"I am the Doctor, Rose. He and I share every memory until I was fully formed," he said. Sighing, he raked his left hand though his hair and turned to gaze down at her. "But I understand if you don't feel comfortable calling me by that name," he added softly.

The not-quite-Doctor let go of her hand and reached out to brush a strand of gold away from her face, letting his fingers gently slide along the line of her jaw. The touch reminded him that her face had thinned out, and bone structure featured more prominently than in their previous years together. His eyes squinted through the gale to search hers, freckles standing out in sharp relief through the pale sunlight.

Rose took hold of the hand still resting on her cheek, and brought it down to rest between them. "I- I don't know if I can," she said, licking her lips and looking down.. "And I know that it might hurt you, but the Doctor - my Doctor - will always be the one who left."

Swallowing hard, Rose looked up at him and continued, "You've taken human names before. Maybe now you're a man, you could choose another?" She saw his eyes fall to the sand and knew she'd hurt him, but Rose needed to be honest. Even if he was not her proper Doctor, he still deserved every bit of her respect. He looked down at their intertwined fingers, his expression more resigned than hopeful.

"John Smith would do, I suppose." At Rose's slight smirk, he turned again to the waves. "_Welllll_... maybe not John Smith. Bit overdone, isn't it? What's in a name, anyway?" he sighed. "As I recall, just "the Doctor" suited me well enough." He drew in a long breath, and let it out slowly as he lifted an eyebrow and turned to face her. A not-quite-frown worried his lower lip.

"You've never wanted a proper name?" Rose struggled to put some levity into her voice, nudging him with her elbow. "Come on, then, whaddya think?" Scrambling for ideas, she said the first two names she could think of: How 'bout Mickey Mouse?"

"Mickey Mouse!" he exclaimed, letting go her hand to rest fists on hips. "First off, there can be only one Mickey-the-idiot, and an entire universe is hardly enough to keep him in check." Reaching up to tug an earlobe, he continued, "Ears aren't as big as they used to be either, so that's a double no for Mickey Mouse." He paused for a moment, staring off into the distance. His features softened after a moment and he murmured, "Wilfred Noble."

Rose was surprised. "Wilfred - from Donna's Dad?"

"Her Grandfather's, yes," he said, nodding and turning to face her. "I rather liked him. And what with Donna Noble as a charming new addition to my personality, the two seem to go well together. Don't you think?" His hands, formerly resting on his hips, spent a split second searching for pant-pockets before dangling loosely at his sides.

There was a hesitation quite unlike the Doctor in his expression. A gift of insecurity from Donna, perhaps? Just another reminder that no matter how much he looked like him, this man could never be her Doctor. "I think it's perfect. And that's Dr. Wilfred Noble, right?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him while emphasizing "doctor."

"Oh, of course!" he exclaimed gaily. "Dr. Wilfred Noble, ex-time traveler and brand new citizen of the Earth. It does have a bit of a ring to it." He grinned winningly at her, grabbing her hand and swinging it back and forth in a gesture so like Rose's Doctor that it nearly broke her heart. Fortunately, her mother saved her for any need to reply.

"Oi, you two lovebirds! You comin or not?" Jackie raised her voice even louder and called, "Pete's at the nursery and I got to help Tony! Toilet training's just started and we're fresh out of pull-ups! I do hope he's on the nursery run," she added as an afterthought.

Rose rolled her eyes the Doctor - no, Wilfred - and tugged his hand in the direction of her mother. From a few yards away, she called: "So, how was it, then?"

"How was what, Mum?" asked Rose. Upon closer view, however, she detected a twinkle in her Mother's mischievous eye. Rose took a step back, letting go Wilfred's hand in her sudden need to gain a bit of distance between them.

"No need to be shy with me, dears," Jackie assured with a wink, nonchalantly flicking her wrist at the two of them. The tapping of her foot betrayed eagerness even as she schooled her features to patience.

Rose looked from her mother to Wilfred - whose expression looked flummoxed - and back again, wondering if the obvious innuendo would make its way through his thick head.

Wilfred frowned and began: "Sorry, Jackie, but I'm afraid I don't -"

"The _kiss_, you daft idiot! You kissed my daughter back there! Took your bloody time getting around to it, too," Jackie added, nodding her head and tapping her foot to a quicker tempo.

"Mum!" Rose interjected, feeling her cheeks flush in mortification. Her eyes sought Wilfred's, but it seemed he had chosen this as another of the exceedingly rare - and highly inconvenient! - times to forget his gift of gab.

"Oh, don't go pretendin' it didn't 'appen! I was there, I saw it, and I want to know how it was," her mother stated triumphantly.

Wilfred appeared dumbstruck, opening and closing his fists and jaw in an effort to figure out what to say. Catching Rose's beseeching glare, he finally appeared to pull himself together, pointing an admonishing finger at her mother.

"Oi, that's none of your business!" Jackie drew in a breath, and Wilfred stamped his foot loudly upon packed sand. "Oh, no no! We'll have no more of that, Jackie Tyler. There's a time and a place and aside from it being - look at that!" Wilfred shifted his erstwhile accusatory finger in a northwesterly direction, and continued, "Is that a helicopter I spy with my half-human eye?"

Rose squeezed Wilfred's hand as her mother turned toward the noisily approaching machine. He turned to smile down at her, returning the squeeze in kind. "Thank you," Rose mouthed. His nodded in acknowledgement, smile widening in something that might have been self-satisfaction at saving the day.

"That's Pete's latest toy," Jackie explained, tilting her head towards the chopper. "I got him flyin lessons for his birthday last year. He's up there every chance he gets these days. Tryin to shirk responsibility, if you ask me."

Rose turned to Wilfred. "Dad knows that mum's scared of heights," she murmured, a smile beginning to tug at her lips. "I reckon its more about him gettin' some time on his own." Wilfred nodded sagely. He knew how Jackie could be, even in small doses.

Appearing to have missed her daughter's musings, Jackie had turned away and began to jump up and down, waving her arms to gain Pete's attention.

Wilfred leapt forward and grabbed one of Jackie's flailing wrists. "Don't do _that_!" he exclaimed. "Unless, that is, you really want tiny bits of rock spraying into every facial orifice at 544.27 feet per second. Rounded to the nearest decimal, of course, though I doubt it matters to you lot- and if not, I suggest we find a suitable make-shift landing zone." He drew in a breath, raised a hand to shield his eyes and turned on a heel to search the terrain. "The cliff tapers off in that direction," he pointed to the southeast, words beginning to pick up speed in the spirit of discovery, "If I remember correctly - and I always do - there's a clearing up that way that should do the trick. Here, follow me!" And without looking back, Wilfred began to run towards their goal.

Jackie sighed at her daughter, and both began chasing after the retreating figure.

"Some things never change, do they?" asked Jackie. "Just like his namesake, always haring off and leavin us to follow like lemmings."

Rose slowed to match her mother's pace. "Not his namesake, Mum," she replied. "He wants us to call him Wilfred. Doctor Wilfred Noble."

Jackie looked at her daughter in surprise. "Wilfred? Bit old-fashioned, isn't it? I mean, I know he's old and all, but even for him-"

"He had a lot of respect for Donna and her grandfather," Rose interjected. "It's her grandfather's name he took."

"Still, why a new name?" Her Mum was beginning to puff a bit for air, so Rose put a hand to her mother's wrist in hopes of allowing her to lighten their pace. Jackie glanced sidelong at her daughter, but kept to their measured strides. "Anyway, he always seemed so proud of where he came from. The great Doctor, last of the Time Lords and all that."

"But he's not the Doctor anymore, Mum," Rose said gently, shifting her view to take in the diminishing figure of Wilfred. "He's here with us for better or worse, and that means living like an ordinary man. Though," she muttered, "I doubt if he'll ever be ordinary."

"So?" persisted Jackie, "he might be a man, but he's still the Doctor. Looks like him, talks like him, and we're still trailin' after him like before, aren't we?"

"He's got one heart, Mum," Rose stated, setting her jaw and subconsciously picking up the pace again. Jackie drew in a deep breath and kept up, sensing the mood her daughter was in.

"What, you think I'm deaf? I heard what he - the other Doctor, I mean - I heard what he was sayin bout changes."

Rose ran fingers through her hair in frustration. "So then you know that he isn't, yeah?" she asked.

"Isn't what?" asked her mother.

"What have we been talking about?" Rose demanded, rolling her eyes to the sky. "The _Doctor_!"

From the front of the cliff face, Wilfred turned and called out to them, "I can see it just ahead! Do keep up," he shouted. Turning on his heel, he renewed his vigorous strides toward a landing site.

Jackie turned to address her daughter mid-stride, "See how he responded?"

"He just isn't used to it yet, Mum," Rose sighed, grabbing her mother's hand and dragging her along again. She shook her head in agitation, trying to dislodge a lock of hair from the corner of her mouth..

The two strode along in silence for half a moment until Jackie broke it: "You made him pick one, didn't you," she asked softly.

Rose nearly fell, cursing a nearby stone in an attempt to compose herself. "Course I didn't! I -"

Jackie denied her daughter the chance to go any further. "I could always tell when you were lyin', " she said, shaking her head in admonition. Rose had the grace to look abashed, eyes trained on the ground in a mock-search for more offensive stones.

"So he's wearing a blue suit and has some new anatomy. Still don't see as he needs a new name," Jackie said. She turned to face Rose in a futile attempt to gain eye contact, and after waiting a beat, she added, "And Rose, it isn't like the other one's ever comin back."

Rose looked out at the sea and felt something akin to a small flame within her beginning to fade. "I know," she said, almost too quiet for her mother to hear. Raising her eyes and looking ahead, Rose firmed her shoulders. "But that doesn't mean that this man - Wilfred - is gonna take his place. He isn't the proper Doctor." Rose swallowed and shook her head, stoking the tiny blaze through strength of will alone. "Never will be."

"He's not _your_ Doctor, you mean?" her mother asked gently. Rose nodded in reply, not trusting her voice for words.

Wilfred was less than ten yards away now, so Jackie began taking slower strides - partly for her breath. The other part tried to find words to suit her daughter's delicate situation.

"Rose," she began, and paused. "I can't even begin to grasp what you're feelin' right now. But you've got to let go, love. You've been on this quest of yours for ages, tryin to find the Doctor and now he's _here_, Rose. Please. Don't let that get away from you."

Rose kept walking, saying nothing. Finally, she turned to her mother. "I know what you're thinkin, Mum. Let's just go home for now, yeah?"

Jackie held her daughter's eyes for a moment, then nodded. They crested a final wall of rocky bluffs to find themselves at the cusp of a barren field. Feeble tufts of grass strained for daylight along a vast expanse of sand and stone. Wilfred stood in his shirtsleeves on a slab of rock before them, blue jacket streaming from his clenched fists in a vain effort to signal the oblivious chopper.

"Oi, you dunce!" exclaimed Jackie, rooted to the spot in disbelief. "You're like the rest of us now, don't go catching pneumonia!" Rose ran the rest of the distance and eased the jacket from his frigid fingers.

Wilfred looked vaguely chagrined, but didn't argue. "Got any flares?" he quipped, briskly rubbing his hands together to create friction.

"I got better than that," announced Jackie. She reached in a pocket and pulled out a bright pink cell phone, brandishing it proudly in front of their gaping faces. "Well? Never seen one before, 'ave you? Lucky you got me around."

"Had that all along, did you?" Wilfred asked, resignation in his voice. He glanced at Rose, who shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes at him, as though shirking any responsibility for her mother's actions.

"It isn't everyday I've a chance for a one-on-one with my Rose, Doctor - err, Wilfred," Jackie added belatedly, flipping open her cell phone and beginning to dial. Wilfred coughed loudly, quickly raising a shaking hand in a belated effort to cover his mouth. He pulled his hand away from his face, staring at it as though it were a ghost.

"He's just a man now, Mum! Next you want some alone time, just ask me-" Rose chided her mother, but was interrupted by Jackie crooning into the phone: "Pete, darling, is that you?"

Rose looked at Wilfred and asked, "Why I bother - here, you alright?"

Wilfred had both bands in his pockets again, and though his nose was decidedly pink from the cold, he nodded, "Course I am. Just need to remember that I don't have a respiratory bypass system any longer. It'll take some getting used to," he said, puffing his cheeks, blowing the hot air between his hands and rocking back and forth on his heels. "Brand new adventure, humanity - learning from the inside out."

"Right," said Rose. "Lets get you start on the right foot then, shall we?" She held up his coat for him to shrug into, shifting to allow his arms into the sleeves and straight into his jacket pockets. "First thing we'll do when we get back is find you a pair of gloves."

He shook his head and shrugged ruefully. "Oh, no need for that, I know I've got a spare pair in the - " Wilfred cut off abruptly, features going blank. "I mean, I'm sure I'll be fine without. Pockets do the trick quite nicely," he finished lamely, giving her a small smile that missed his shadowed eyes.

Rose had no chance to reply. The helicopter had found them - with Jackie's belated help, no doubt - and was lowering itself into landing position, blades whipping the air into a frenzy. All three moved back to give him room as Pete landed the steel beast with a surprising amount of grace.

"He'd need _loads_ of practice for that," Wilfred called to Rose over the rush of sound, and grinned mischievously as she caught his eye. Rose smiled back at him, rolling her eyes in her mother's direction.

Pete leaned across the cabin and opened the door for Jackie, who turned to Rose, practically shouting into her ear, "Isn't he such a gentleman?"

Rose winced at her mother, hoping it would pass for a smile. Wilfred opened the door for her, gesturing with his left hand, "After milady."

The air was much warmer inside the chopper, and Rose gratefully took her jacket off, arranging it carefully on the seat back. Wilfred made himself comfortable in the bucket-style seat beside hers. The cabin had a space between the left- and right-hand seats in both front and back, the better to store necessary supplies when trunk space ran out. As soon as they were safely in the air and cruising towards London, Pete adjusted the rear view mirror to take in the sight of the two people behind him.

"Doctor! I never thought I'd be so glad to see your face!" Shifting his eyes to his daughter, he continued, "Rose finally found you, did she?"

"I did, Dad," Rose began, but was cut off by Pete. She decided then and there that her mother was a decidedly bad influence on him.

"If you'd only seen her over the past few years, Doctor," Pete's eyes appeared to crinkle into a smile in the rear view mirror. "Rose was a woman on a mission. Torchwood kept trying to place her in other projects, but you know how stubborn she is. Knew she had to find you, made it her life's work. Didn't sleep some nights." His eyes shifted briefly to Rose's, before returning to Wilfred. "Most nights, probably. She did a poor job of hiding it. Jackie and I actually thought of getting her a cot for her birthday one year - just as a joke - but realized in time that she might actually take it as excuse to sleep in the office. She never did give up on you, Doctor."

Rose had been trying to signal Pete to quit goin on on about it, and sighed as she saw Jackie reach a hand over to cover Pete's on the controls. She really ought to have listened to what her Mum was saying on the phone - her Dad really wasn't that much of a romantic. She had opened her mouth to things down when she felt Wilfred's fingers brushing hers. She turned to look at him, and her throat caught at what she saw.

The Doctor - no, _Wilfred_! God, she needed to remember that - was looking at her, eyes dark and full of emotion. She'd seen that face before, when he was wearing his brown suit. It usually happened when they'd narrowly skirted death, or were hot on the key to a mystery. Sometimes she saw it when they were talking about everything and nothing, and he'd reach for her hand to hold. Rubbing his thumb across the webbing between her thumb and forefinger, his eyes would bore into hers for moments on end. Until something happened to distract them, as it always did.

Wilfred's gaze was on her, mouth a set in a straight line, the corners of his lips slightly turned down. His hair was wild, just like the Doctor's on any given day. It made her heart beat faster, and she felt a ray of sun rising in her cheeks. Eyes locked on hers, he intertwined their fingers, brushing his thumb across the webbing. Her eyes closed briefly, but then he did something he hadn't during their travels - Wilfred raised her hand to his mouth and lightly grazed her knuckles, lips barely touching.

Rose's eyes fluttered open, mouth slightly parted as he performed his delicate work. She felt light as a feather - as light as the warmth of his breath on the back of her hand - and ready to seep out through the cracks in the cabin's foundation. She tried to speak and no words came out. She licked her lips, and Wilfred slowly lowered their fingers. He flashed a small smile at her, eyebrows slightly raised as he allowed their hands to dangle in the space between their seats. A few stray butterflies rose in her chest as he brushed his thumb across the palm of her hand, and she beat them down with a quick swallow.

"Yeah, Dad," she finally got out. "I found him."

There was a long moment where no one said anything at all. Wilfred's features finally settled on something like contentment, and he toward whatever view his window had to offer. The only sounds to be heard were the steady "thud-thud-thud" of the helicopter blades and occasional engine shift.

"There's one thing, though, Pete," Jackie said. "The Doctor... he made a copy of hisself, only he's half-human -"

"It's more complicated than that, Mum," Rose intervened, but was again cut off by her mother.

"He made a copy so that they could live out their lives and grow old together. Isn't it romantic, Pete?"

Pete's reflection in the rear view mirror changed, eyebrows drawing down to address Wilfred with his eyes, "So if you're a copy, where's the original?"

Rose interjected, "Dad, it isn't -" And Pete was the one to cut her off this go-round. Rose huffed and crossed her arms, turning to look out her window.

"I haven't heard the Doctor - or is it his half-human clone? - I still haven't heard him speak yet." Rose opened her mouth to tell him that NO, Wilfred was NOT a clone, when she felt his hand reach over to cover their intertwined fingers, squeezing gently.

"It's all right, Rose," Wilfred said softly. This simple gesture was so like her own Doctor that Rose's vision began to blur.

Wilfred turned to face the front of the cabin, bringing his right hand back to the coat pocket. "My name isn't the Doctor anymore, Pete," he began. "It's Dr. Wilfred Noble - Wilfred and Donna were both friends of mine - and I'm half-human, half-Time Lord." Wilfred's eyes turned to the ceiling as he mused aloud: " I wonder how many times I'm going to have to say that?" Returning his level look to Pete's, he continued, " At any rate, now I'm here on earth for better or worse, and I'm afraid that means I've got to start living like an ordinary man."

Rose's breath caught. Feigning a sudden fascination with her right shoe, she chanced a surreptitious glance at his expression. He'd been listening. She'd have to remember that he could still hear ten times better than the average human. What other superpowers did he have?

"Duly noted, Dr. Noble," said Pete. "Please go on."

"Come to think of it," Wilfred began as though thinking out loud, "the Ood saw this coming. _Welllll_, I knew they saw it coming, but the actual "it" wasn't the "it" I originally thought "it" was."

"The Ood?" asked Rose, raising her eyebrows in recognition. "You mean, those humanoid aliens with the squiddy faces, tentacles and that?"

"The very same, Rose, I'd nearly forgotten how good a memory yours is!" Wilfred grinned brightly, squeezing her hand in a gesture of pride and delight at her revelation. "Yes, the same, with the addition of telepathy and an uncanny aptitude for clairvoyance to add to the list of characteristics." He paused, then went on again as though thinking aloud, "Come to think of it, I wonder if we knew about those abilities. Not so extraordinary on their own, but combined? That's rare. Very rare."

"Very, very rare?" Rose teased him with a cheeky smile, tongue stuck in the corner of her mouth between her teeth.

Wilfred tilted his head back slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Quite right, Rose. Very, very, very, very, _very_ rare. I see you get the picture."

"Quick study, that's me," she retorted, and it felt enough like old times to give him a genuine smile of pleasure. Wilfred smiled back, perfect teeth gleaming in a grin that could power the sun, and they held eye contact for an endless few seconds. Then he abruptly cleared his throat, smile fading as he seemed to recall what they were about.

"Yes, well," he continued, lowering his eyes to the seat in front of him, "my kind - or rather my sire's kind, I suppose you could say -"

And just like that, the bubble burst. Rose had forgotten, if only for a few moments, the situation they were in. She felt as though a frigid splash of water had unceremoniously yanked her back into reality. Pulling herself together - and hoping he hadn't noticed - Rose hurriedly interrupted, "The Time Lords, you mean?"

"The same," said Wilfred, who appeared to sense nothing amiss, and continued blithely on in a lecturing tone. "Gallifray held an interest in any species with the ability to read time. Backwards, forwards, around and through - didn't matter which direction. If you could read any of the continuum, they wanted to know about it." He paused. "Dangerous, you know. Whoever it was would have been perceived as a possible threat to the governance of time, which the Council saw as their responsibility alone."

"You were saying about the Ood, Doctor? Pete asked in an effort to recharge Wilfred's focus.

"It's Wilfred or Dr. Noble, Pete. Or maybe Fred? Fred! Fred Astaire, now _there_ was a dancer, truly Astaire to aspire to. Great bit of alliteration there, nearly as brilliant as 'allons-y, Alonzo!'" Fred's features lit up in a familiar child-like glee at his newly discovered play on words. "Fred Astaire Noble. The Noble Doctor Fred Astaire, dancing up the stairs of Big Ben's clock tower to stare at the gears of time that he once traversed... ooh, I'm waxing poetic now, aren't I?"

Fred stopped his musings, pausing to take in the expressions of those around him. "Now, what are you all _staring_ at me for?"

Rose shook her head from side to side in reply, a small smile flicking on her lips. "You're joking, yeah?" Fred simply looked at her, a reflection of her own expression in response.

"Well, at any rate," Fred went on, " if you all would please start calling me "Fred" as soon as possible, it would be a huge help. You humans have a remarkable ability to adapt - have pity on a poor halfling," he said lightly. "Anyway, yes, the Ood. Donna and I made a visit to them a little over a year ago. It had been about that long since I'd let so many of them die on Krop Tor, and I figured I owed them one."

"It wasn't your fault, Doct - Fred," Rose amended hastily.

He nodded, turning to face her. "I know. But that doesn't make it right. When we found ourselves on their planet, the Ood were enslaved. Like before, on Krop Tor, only they were being paraded around to see how much money their "owners" could squeeze out of the Ood's innate desire to help. Donna and I took part in setting them free - they weren't completely powerless, mind you, but we gave what help we could. In the end, they told us we could stay as long as we liked and were always welcome for a visit. It was a lovely place, very shiny but a bit cold - colder than where we are right now - and Donna wanted to go somewhere warm. At any rate, just before we left, they called us the Doctor-Donna."

"So you think they were able to see your future?" Rose prompted, after Fred - she fancied that more than Wilfred, to be sure - lapsed into silence, staring at the faux-leather seat back in front of him. After a moment with no reply, she reached out to touch his shoulder: "Fred?"

With a slight start, Fred reached up to hold her hand again, absent-mindedly stroking the backs of her knuckles. "To see into the future, yes, but I'd originally assumed that they were talking about Donna and I traveling together, putting things to rights and so on. Now I see that they meant what they said - a hybridization of Donna and my other self." Glancing at Rose, he seemed to finally notice that he was stroking her hand, and twining his fingers with hers, let their hands dangle between the seats once more.

"Still," he said, straightening his posture and looking directly at Pete's reflection in the rear view mirror, "that's neither here nor there. My question for the moment is this: what are you going to do with me?"


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes:

Due to popular demand, I have shortened Wilfred's name to Fred. The Doctor cared a great deal for Wilfred, so I'm sticking with it, but I want to make you all happy too :-) Anyway, here is the third installment - second chapter - of this series. There might be tons of grammar/typing errors, I'm dead tired, but I'll go through it all again tomorrow to fix things up. Here's the unpolished version! P.S.- At the end, there is a small homage to Cassandra/TasogareBan's beautiful, poignant story, "The Last Stop." One of the best fics I've ever read. If you haven't read it, please do - if you aren't offended by sex, that is. I only hope someday my words can come anywhere near her eloquence.

_"When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,  
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,  
And think that I may never live to trace  
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;  
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!  
That I shall never look upon thee more,  
Never have relish in the faery power  
Of unreflecting love!-then on the shore  
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think..."_

- from _"When I have fears that I may cease to Be,"_ by John Keats

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Chapter 2: The Ghost of New Years' Past**

"What do you mean, what are we going to do with you?" Jackie's voice sounded startled. "What kind of question is that?"

"I think Fred might be wondering where he's going to stay," Pete began slowly, only to be interrupted by his wife.

Turning in her chair, Jackie addressed Fred: "Who do you think we are, anyway?" Her voice was getting louder by the second. "Gonna chop you into little bits and cook you for supper, are we?"

Fred wrinkled his nose in distaste, cringing away from Jackie. "I should hope not. Don't imagine I'd be very tasty, all bone and sinew and polyester-"

"Oh, for goodness sakes, stop it!" demanded Rose. Fred and Jackie turned to face her, Jackie with a finger still pointing at Fred, and Fred pursuing a very unmanly effort to get as far away from Jackie as he could. Rose drew in a breath, nodding in satisfaction. "Right. Mum and Pete, is it alright if Fred and I stay in the mansion with you?

"With Jackie Tyler?" Fred whined, seemingly aghast at the very notion. "Did you miss that last bit about her chopping me into bits and pieces?"

"Oh, go on," Jackie admonished, "you know I was just havin a laugh." She flipped her ponytail behind her, all blue-eyed innocence rimmed with heavy mascara.

"At my expense!" Fred folded his arms across his chest, eyeing her guardedly.

Rose raised her eyes to the ceiling, puffing a stray hair away from her face and wondering if this were such a good idea after all. Then again, would she feel comfortable if it were just she and Fred all alone in her apartment? They had shared a kiss earlier, but she would not want to raise his expectations too quickly. At the same time, she didn't want to seem callous by forcing him to stay somewhere she wasn't. And for that matter, she didn't want to be without him at all. It was so _confusing_! Granted that life with the Doctor had never been normal, but why did he have to go and duplicate himself to begin with? Gritting her teeth, Rose forced herself to make a decision.

"All of us are gonna stay in the mansion," she declared. "It's a safe place, and it'll give us some time to think on the future."

Fred opened his mouth and Rose held up a hand. "Please don't argue with me on this, Fred. This- " Rose stopped mid-sentence, searching for the right words - "this whole situation," she continued, gesturing with her hands, "has my mind reeling, and I think we could all use some time to think things through."

"Sounds like a great idea to me, Rose," said Pete. "Plotting a course for home." The chopper turned slightly, and Jackie grasped the back of her chair, face turning a little green.

Fred's face suddenly looked as old as he must have felt. "I wasn't going to try and change your mind, Rose. I only wanted to say that I would be happy to share a home with you. And your family, of course," he added belatedly.

Jackie smacked his arm lightly. "Room and board aren't free, you know," she said, a familiar twinkle in her eye. "Diaper duty is up for grabs. Unless you'd rather do the laundry?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The party of travelers remained silent for the remainder of the trip, aside from occasional comments on their surroundings. Fred pointed out Big Ben, wondered aloud who maintained the monstrosity. Jackie, surprisingly, kept her mouth shut. Rose attributed her mother's uncharacteristic behavior to air sickness, and thanked God for small favors.

Pete's landing was just as smooth as on Bad Wolf Bay, granted that he had a real landing pad this go-round. Jackie let out an audible sigh of relief as she stepped out of the chopper, gratefully accepting Pete's hand to help her onto solid ground. Rose took the opportunity to lock eyes with Fred, then roll them in her mother's direction. Fred shrugged and smiled ruefully, coming to stand beside her, hands still in his pockets. Rose bumped her shoulder into his arm, reaching into his left pocket to fish out his hand. Fred's eyebrows rose as he looked down at her, and she pulled their interlocked fingers into her own coat pocket.

"Fur-lined," Rose explained. "Your hands are freezing - haven't kept them out of your pockets this whole time, so don't look at me like I just grew another head."

"Ah, of course," said Fred, nodding his head and turning to face the retreating figures of Rose's parents. "Thank you," he added, dimples forming a small smile.

Rose tugged Fred along in the direction of Jackie and Pete. "Don't mention it," she said. "And don't thank me, either. I like holding your hand," she blurted, slamming her mouth shut before any other untoward statements decided to present themselves. She chanced a glance up at him, and Fred's hand gently squeezed hers within the warmth of her pocket.

"Me, too," he said, smiling down at her with his mouth opened slightly in a near-mirror image of her own cheeky grin. She nudged him with her shoulder again, biting her lower lip and playfully butting against his left side. He nudged her back a bit forcefully, laughing as she stumbled. Rose narrowed her eyes at him, then pointed to her parents as he helped her regain her footing.

"There's the car," Rose declared as Pete helped Jackie into the passenger seat of a black cab. "Looks just like a cab," she explained. "Dad figured it would help him blend in on the way to work."

Fred nodded as they approached the vehicle. "Sounds like he's gained more brain cells since we last met."

"I heard that," Pete called over his shoulder as he dropped into the driver's seat. "I'll thank you to remember just whose home you'll be staying in, Fred," came a muffled statement from the driver's seat.

"I'd be more grateful if I wasn't stuck doing chores," Fred retorted. "Chores are for humans. I'm still half Time Lord, in case you'd forgotten," he continued as he opened the door for Rose.

Rose kept hold of Fred's hand, practically dragging him into the seat beside her. "Oi!" he gasped as his head barely missed the top of the cab. "Careful, will you? I can't just regenerate away a concussion, you know," he grumbled, shifting in his seat to make himself more comfortable.

Fred glanced over Rose's head to find a child's safety seat. "Is that young Tony Tyler's, then?"

"Yea," Jackie replied from the front seat. "And you oughtta strap yourself in. Pete's smooth enough in the air, but all dare-devil on the ground."

Pete chuckled. "Gotta stay in character, Jackie. No one would believe a cabbie doing the speed limit, now would they?"

Jackie folded her arms across and flipped her hair across her shoulder. "S'pose not," she muttered, glaring out the window. "Just you remember when your son's in the backseat, is all," she went on to chide him.

"Yes, Mum," Pete retorted, turning the key in the ignition, and setting off toward the mansion in a squeal of tires.

Rose and Fred felt themselves being pressed into the backseat from Pete's rapid acceleration. "_Blimey_," exclaimed Fred, "what's running this thing?"

Pete turned and grinned back at him. "Can't you guess?" Jackie smacked Pete's arm to draw his attention to the road ahead, and he shrugged her off to shift into fourth gear.

Fred sat back, scratching at his head with his free right hand. "I think it just hit on the a-class pitch set, which leads me to believe that the engine is German - wait, no!" he burst out in surprise, "No, it just shifted to a b-flat! Only the French and Italians wax sharp, so that limits our choices down to..." Fred tapped a finger to his lips, eyebrows raised in a very Doctory expression. Rose bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud at the sheer joy of the experience - the roar of the engine, her parents in the front seat and this man who was almost the Doctor beside her. It was enough to make her smile in delight.

"_AaaAAh!_ It's a Lamborghini V-twelve! Five-hundred pound feet of torque, six-point-five liter capacity and revs to eight-thousand, two-hundred and fifty rpm!" Fred paused for air, running fingers through his hair until it stood on end. "God, that's sexy," he breathed.

"Agreed," Rose murmured, and luckily Fred was too dazed to hear her.

"Spot on, Fred!" Pete shouted as he down-shifted to third gear, accelerating merely for the chance to show his baby off to someone who appreciated her.

"Ha HA!" bellowed Fred. "Give her some juice, Pete!" he declared, and Pete complied, revving the engine until Jackie bent over, covering her head with her arms. "Stop it!" she cried.

"Oi! You trying to break the sound barrier?" Rose demanded of her father. "Mum looks like she's gonna lose it!"

Pete reluctantly slowed the cab down, engines lowering in pitch to hum in a gentle purr. Everyone in the car visibly relaxed.

"Aw, Jackie," complained Fred, "it's no wonder I never took you with us. Great lot of fun you are."

"Don't start with me," Jackie retorted in a level tone.

Rose squeezed Fred's hand, a finger to her lips. "Hush," she warned him. "It's not worth it when she gets all tetchy like this."

Fred made a face, then settled back into his seat. A few moments passed in silence. Whenever Rose caught a glimpse of his expression, she saw that tiny muscle in his jaw twitching. She supposed he was thinking deep, Doctory thoughts.

Rose was just beginning to yawn sleepily when she felt his fingers unraveling themselves from hers. She tried to maintain a neutral expression - after all, wasn't she the one chiding her earlier lack of control? He withdrew his hand from her pocket, only to raise his arm and wrap it around her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise.

Fred's eyes looked into hers, blinking once. "Hand's not cold anymore," he murmured. Then he leaned his face down to kiss her gently on the forehead, holding his lips there for a few seconds of eternity. Finally he pulled back, gazing at her with eyes that crinkled into a smile. He reached out and ran his fingers along the right side of her forehead, cupping her cheek in his hand, thumb lightly caressing her jaw.

Rose had turned to stone. She was so tense that she feared to move so much as a finger, lest she shatter into a million pieces. His eyes were chock-full of emotion again - soft and tender on the surface, but she could see the storm that raged beneath. Not a galactic-scale storm like the Doctor's, although this man's eyes were a hurricane unto themselves. She yearned to dive in, though she might drown in them. She retreated from temptation the only way she knew how - Rose closed her eyes. But before she could stop herself, she leaned into his hand, turning to kiss his palm.

His thumb froze, and she opened her eyes. His expression was such that she couldn't tell if he was ready to laugh or cry. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and Rose reached up to run a hand through his hair. His eyes closed as she took her time, allowing herself to revel in the jungle that was his hair - dense, untamed, luxurious, like thousands of spindly, wild silken reeds. She loved his hair.

She loved _him_ - everything about him, the vivacity and _joie de vivre_, his insatiable curiosity and appetite for knowledge, his utter wildness. How magnificent a creature he was, and yet he cared so much for every living thing in his universe. He had made so many sacrifices; had put his life on the line on countless occasions just to give someone - anyone, even his enemy - a chance at a better life.

Was this the man in front of her? The one with his his eyes closed in contentment as she raked her fingers through his hair - was it the same man? She did not want to doubt it.

His eyes opened as she ceased the motion, lids heavy as though he was barely resisting sleep. She smiled at him and he smiled back, reaching down to clasp her hand before drawing her head down to rest upon his shoulder. She snuggled into him, and he rested his head on hers, thumb tracing lazy circles into the skin of her hand.

Rose closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the moment. She had earned this. But her mind wandered, as it was wont to do while she was falling asleep. Her subconscious brought her back to a time and place that she had forgotten until her first meeting with the Doctor's latest form. Many years ago, before she had hoped for anything in life outside of a nine-to-five job...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snow was just beginning to coat the ground as Rose and her mother made their way to the Powell Estate. Jackie's boyfriend was supposed to have picked them up, but ditched them with the flimsy excuse of a broken axle. Jimbo was rubbish as a boyfriend, and it broke Rose's heart to hear her Mum say that she couldn't do any better at her age. She'd reached out to her mother and tried to console her, told her not to give up - even then, Rose had believed that there was someone out there for everyone.

If she hadn't believed in fate before, she would after what was about to happen.

After wishing her mother a happy new year, Rose headed for the apartment. The snow was falling heavier by then, and she had just picked up her pace when she heard a strangled sound from behind, as though someone were sick or injured.

A tall man in a brown suit and overcoat leaned heavily against the wall of lockers. Most of his frame was hidden in shadow, but what she could see of his face seemed to be grimacing against pain.

"You all right?" she had asked the stranger.

"Yea," he had replied, voice slightly raspy. Rose had gone on to ask about his drinking habits, and their conversation had been light and cordial. Except for his eyes and mouth. His lips were pressed tightly together, as though he were fighting hard to keep from telling her something that his eyes hungered to express.

After she had turned away, he had called for her one more time, and Rose had written him off as a madman when he asked her what year it was. Once she told him, he gave her a strangled, forced smile and laid down a bet that she was going to have "a really great year."

She had never forgotten the expression on his face at that moment. Jaw gritted hard against some inner turmoil, he gave her a tight-lipped smile that looked as though it wanted to dissolve into mourning. Those haunted eyes had bored into her soul, and even as she left him she knew that she needed to see him one more time, to understand what this crazy, beautiful man with the wild hair was trying to say to her. She turned around at the door and smiled at him, trying to offer what comfort she could, even then.

When she had seen him that first Christmas in his brown suit, Rose's insides had jolted at the recognition. As she had journeyed with him, she promised herself that she would never leave his side. Not just because she loved him - which she did by that point, beyond what she had dreamed she was capable of - but because she would not let him die alone.

One thing was clear: The Doctor had visited her on that snowy new year because he was dying. When they had been trapped in two different realities, she had fought tooth and nail to get back to him. The dying Doctor of her past had broken his own rules by visiting her before they'd met - she had been his last stop on the way to certain death. If that wasn't an affirmation of love, Rose didn't know what was.

And here she sat in the arms of his double. He smelled like her Doctor, felt like him, acted like him, breathed like him. And her own Doctor had Donna for company. Had she erased his sorrowful visit from any possibility of occurrence?

Rose could remember it, therefore it should still exist. On the other hand, she had bits of the time vortex still inside her from her brief stint as the Bad Wolf. If she accepted Fred into the role that she so badly wanted the Doctor to fill, would she be abandoning her original Doctor to a lonely, painful death?

Brow furrowed into a troubled frown, Rose drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Beside her, Fred gazed out the window at the stars, wondering how his other self was coping with traveling alone. Eventually he closed his eyes, slowing down his somber thoughts until he, too, slept.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes:

This chapter was supposed to be long - and I suppose it is - but I've decided to break it into halves for the sake of my sanity. It is very important for Rose and Fred, and I don't want to rush it for their sakes. In addition, I want you all to know that I'm still writing this story.. the holidays are crazy! Hopefully I'll get more time soon. Meanwhile, please enjoy this chapter. P.S.-I've decided to italicize Rose's inner monologue. What do you think?

**Chapter 3: Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Tyger, tyger, burning bright  
In the forest of the night,  
What immortal hand or eye  
Could Frame thy fearful symmetry?_

In what distant deeps or skies  
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?  
On what wings dare he aspire?  
What the hand dare seize the fire?

- from "The Tyger," by William Blake

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The TARDIS tilted crazily back and forth on its axis, spinning haphazardly on a stochastic path through space and time. The Doctor struggled to keep her course in check, the edges of his fingers turning white as he held fast to a blue lever. A great shudder went through the entire cabin, and the Doctor's legs launched themselves away from the grated floor to kick against the turquoise core, sparks flying at the point of contact.

"Free fall?" he spluttered. "But that's impossible!"

Fishing into his pockets from the upside-down vantage point, he pushed thick-rimmed spectacles onto his face. The Doctor grabbed hold of the console monitor and yanked himself down to make sense of his surroundings. He squinted at the screen, frowned in utter bewilderment. One of his hands flickered in and out of existence, but he took no notice in his state of concentration. The monitor depicted a scene as black as death. His suit flickered from brown to blue to brown to black leather to brown again. Meanwhile, the Doctor muttered inaudibly to himself as a tiny speck of gold came to life on the display. It began to grow, pixel by pixel, expanding slowly but steadily.

The Doctor's hands flew away from the monitor as if burned, and he pushed off from the TARDIS core to land in front of the door. He cracked it open, peered through the small opening to behold a universe gone mad.

The stars were absent, no planets or nebulae in sight - only the tiny speck of gold growing closer and closer. Slamming the door shut, the Doctor turned and began to make his way back toward the control panel.

Outside, the distant light continued to grow, warbling in shape as though a thing alive. The structure was roughly rectangular, left and right sides extended to points. Growing ever closer, the bottom half became focused enough to be classified as a set of four legs. Whatever it was, the creature was running like wildfire, tail streaming behind in a howling wind that couldn't exist within the vacuum of space. Its head lunged forward with each stride, the only visible eye shining a bright golden yellow.

The TARDIS was nearly on level with it, close enough to hear a low, savage growl emanating from the beast. The entire scenario was impossible - it moved with frightening speed, yet the TARDIS was holding still. Or were they moving at the same speed toward a common destination? How had it managed to approach while remaining sideways, running in a seemingly different direction?

All questions faded as it turned to face the ship. Both eyes radiated golden flame, its translucent body laced through with filigree veins of gold. A nebulaic fog swirled around its mouth as it exhaled, steadily releasing a dazzling cloud of twinkling luminescent mist. Starlight pulsed within the ephemeral frame only to be shed from its fur, then carried away on a howling celestial gale. As it came within mere yards of the TARDIS doors, the diaphanous form tilted its head back, and suddenly it became evident that the howl of the wind had emanated from the beast's lungs. The wolf's lungs. The Bad Wolf-

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rose bolted upright, sweat beading her forehead as she gasped for air. Her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest, and she raised a hand to her sodden t-shirt, gripping the fabric with shaking fingers. Blinking away residual images of her unearthly dream, Rose took in her surroundings - a fire had been lit on the hearth. It had been a very tiring day, and she wasn't terribly surprised that she'd passed out like that in the cab. Someone must have carried her to the big, bulky sofa in the sitting room. A blanket lay pooled around her legs. Scrubbing at her eyes, Rose turned, only to startle herself all over again.

Fred looked decidedly uncomfortable in the antique leather armchair, head leaning awkwardly against a small pillow that he had propped between his face and the frame of the chair. His eyes were closed, stockinged feet propped up on the coffee table, long legs spanning the gap between.

Rose got to her feet and padded over to the chair, as close as she dared without any risk of waking him up. A small muscle moved within his jaw line, fingers tensing and untensing where they lay across his wiry frame. This, too, was different. Her own Doctor had rarely slept, and only like a baby whenever he felt the need. Rose could still recall the sight of him, utterly relaxed as his consciousness drifted in whatever dreams came to dozing Time Lords. It made such a striking contrast to his usual manic state that she had taken special note of it, memorizing the softness of his features and the slow, deep rhythm of his breath.

Rose suddenly realized that her hand was still clutching the hem of her sweaty t-shirt, and tip-toed off to her old room with a mind of changing into a clean shirt. She made a mental note to bring her old clothing to her own flat - Rose hated admitting, even to herself, that she'd intentionally left them behind to avoid painful memories. She found a soft grey sweatshirt in the top drawer of her tiny wooden dresser, and hastily made the switch. Blessedly dry cotton brushed gently against her skin as she pushed her arms through the sleeves. Running a brush through her hair to tame a few knots, Rose studied her reflection in the small, round mirror above her dresser.

Much had changed about her since she had last worn this top, both physically and emotionally. She had lost a good deal of weight, mainly due to a long period wherein food had held no interest to her. She had become hardened in her newfound knowledge of the enduring pain that came with an intimate loss. Rose replaced the brush in its cradle atop her dresser, eyes lighting on tiny framed photograph of her Mum, Mickey, the Doctor and herself. It was from the Christmas party, just after the Doctor had ended Harriet Jones' political career. Though she thought it rash of him at the time, Rose grew to understand that his judgment had been sound. She had learned - the hard way - that with experience came wisdom.

Her vision lingered on herself and the Doctor, his arm thrown around her shoulders as all four grinned cheekily at the camera. Rose gently reminded herself that some things were worth the pain of their loss. The corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile, remaining in place as she padded into the room where she and the Doctor - no, she and _Fred_ - were to sleep for the night.

Fred dropped his feet from the coffee table, stood and turned to face Rose as she entered the room, wincing slightly as his neck rotated. The right side of his hair was matted down from the pillow, the rest of it flying in a million different types of cowlick. He smiled crookedly as she came to stand in front of him, firelight flickering across his cheekbones.

"You look like something the cat dragged in," teased Rose. Fred immediately spun on his heel and started to scan the room, eyes moving rapidly.

"Cat? No one warned me," Fred said warily, voice taking on a slight note of panic as he turned to face her. "Really, Rose? A _cat_? After the homicidal feline nurses of New New York? You ought to know they can't be trusted!"

Rose had been struggling to keep her face smooth during his brief tirade, and as a result her mouth was quivering, lips pressed tightly together. Fred frowned and leaned toward her, laying a hand on her forehead. "Are you alright? You look as though you're... well, constipated or something," he finished.

Laughter burst from between her lips before they had time to open properly, and the resulting sound was that of a loud farting noise followed by an outright guffaw. Rose bent over, arms pressed to her belly as she tried to contain her hysteria.

"What?" Fred asked in a tone that indicated sincere confusion at the state of affairs. Rose looked up at him, stopped laughing enough to say, "You're such- such a-hahaaa," and lapsed into another fit of laughter, tears beginning to run from her eyes as she reached an arm out to Fred's shoulder, struggled to remain upright. He grasped her elbows to keep her from falling.

"What's got into you?" he asked. Rose pointed a finger at him, gasping for breath. "Oi!" he exclaimed, "You're laughing at _me_?" She nodded, leaning over as the giggles overtook her once again.

"I see nothing funny about it," Fred chided in a lecturing tone. "Cats using humans for disease-control experiments - though I suppose there is a certain karma there - but it certainly isn't ample excuse-"

Rose cut him off. "Not _that_, you idiot," she explained, shaking her head and wiping at her cheeks. "I forgot how oblivious you can be."

Fred let go of her elbows and she stumbled forward, grasping at the mantle to check her balance. "I may be many things, Rose Tyler, but oblivious is not one of them," he said solemnly, folding his arms across his chest. Rose scrubbed again at her eyes, breathing through her nose in an attempt to control her exhaustion-induced hysterics.

"Well?" Fred prodded. "Out with it." Hands on hips, he looked at her as a parent would toward an ill-behaved child. Rose peered up at him in confusion, then seemed to realize that he still hadn't understood. She pointed in the direction of his forehead. "Your hair. Looks like a rat's nest," she said, spacing the words out for emphasis.

Fred reached up to feel the untidy mess, turning on a heel to check his reflection above the mantel. His eyebrows rose and he puffed up his cheeks, slowly letting the air out as he ran fingers through his hair. He left it to stand out in even crazier directions, addressing Rose's reflection in the mirror: "Has a life of its own. And not even a hint of ginger from Donna! Some things aren't meant to be, I suppose," he grumbled.

Fred turned again to face Rose and pointed a finger at her. "That wasn't very polite of you," he admonished.

"When have I been polite?" she countered.

"Fair point, you win," declared Fred. He crossed the carpet and plopped down in the leather arm chair. "We should probably get some sleep," he added in a more serious tone.

Rose glanced at the sofa, then back to Fred as he repeatedly beat a fist into his pillow. Trying to make it more comfortable, she supposed. Her eyes returned to the oversized couch. _Ample space for two_, she thought to herself.

"How's your neck feeling?" she asked Fred. His head was propped awkwardly against the tiny cushion, which in turn provided scarce padding from the tight leather chair wing.

"Hurts," he admitted, grimacing slightly, "but I suppose it's something else to get used to, being part-human." He reached up to adjust the cushion. "Aches and pains never bothered me as a Time Lord, but I'll make do. I've been spoiled," he added, smiling ruefully at his own expense.

"No, you won't," Rose declared. "It isn't because you're human that your neck hurts - it's because you had it all scrunched up for so long. Hurts just thinking about it." Fred's eyes followed her, keeping his head still as though now he'd found a good position, he didn't want to risk losing it.

Rose sat down on the couch, and stretched along it so that she was pressed into the upright cushioning. She propped the side of her head on her right elbow, cheek resting on her hand. She patted the space beside her. "There's plenty of room." Fred's eyebrows rose, pillow sliding down to the chair's seat as he sat up. He lowered his feet to the ground but said nothing, looking adorably vulnerable in his hesitation.

"Go on, then," she encouraged him, "I promise not to poke fun at your hair." She smiled, trying to appear relaxed as a faint stirring of butterflies fluttered in her belly. _His name is Fred, and he isn't quite the Doctor, but its so hard to tell the difference sometimes_, Rose thought to herself. _Would I have had the nerve to share a bed with him if he were his other self? His_ real _self? What does real even mean these days? Why shouldn't I take what I can get? _Despite these self-assurances, Rose still felt a stab of guilt as Fred rose from the chair and made his way toward her.

She would have given anything to know what was going on in his head right then. He gingerly sat upon the couch, bounced on it a bit, then nodded to himself as he stretched out beside her. Rose wordlessly reached down to the brown fleece blanket - _how fitting a color_, she thought - and pulled it up and over the both of them from toes to shoulders. Propping her chin in her fist once more, she turned to look at the half-Time Lord beside her.

Fred's eyes were riveted to the ceiling, arms to his sides and stiff as a board. He made scarcely any movement, even to breathe through his nose. Rose sensed the tension within him, and reached out to rest a hand on his too-still chest. "Hey," she said softly. "It's me. Rose. Remember?" She moved her hand in a gentle circle, trying to soothe him. "You can relax. I won't bite." Fred turned his head to face her, raising an eyebrow. "Much," she added belatedly with a cheeky grin.

Fred smiled back, raising his head to mimic her pose with his left elbow and fist, and her hand dropped to space between them. "I know," he said, voice full of emotion. The smile grew, as though he were recalling some happy memory. "And you have no idea how glad I am of it," he finished, face breaking into an all-out grin of pure joy. Rose swore that she could feel genuine rays of sunlight on her skin whenever he gave her that smile. Her collection of butterflies gathered themselves and took wing on a fluttery breeze of approval. "Glad that you're Rose, I mean" he added. "Not of your bite. Isn't as bad as your bark."

"Oi," she mock-chided, swatting at his elbow, and couldn't think of another word to say. That beguiling grin of his was charming her mind into a muddle. Fortunately, he interrupted her train of thought - or lack thereof: "_You_ ," he said, reaching out with a finger to poke gently at her forehead, "were having a nightmare."

Memories of the dream - of the Bad Wolf - flooded her mind. "How did you know?" she asked him warily. Was this new version of him able to read her thoughts?

As if to confirm her suspicions, Fred answered: "I don't know what's going on in your head, if that's what you're asking." He dropped his finger, formerly tracing along her hairline, to the sofa cushion. "You called out in your sleep." He raised his eyes to hers and continued, "Said 'Doctor' quite a few times, and you sounded scared."

Rose's eyes had locked onto his as soon as he said "Doctor." Had she hurt him again? She searched his expression, which had taken on its most unreadable form. He was fidgeting with one of the tassels at the edge of the blanket, but she could make nothing of that. Rose closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall the details of her dream.

"I was in the TARDIS," she began, opening her eyes to focus on his face. "But I wasn't really _in_ there, just sort of looking in from the outside. Like watching a movie, yeah?" Fred nodded in encouragement, twirling bits of thread between finger and thumb.

"Everything was goin' mad. It looked like something hit the ship, and you lost gravity and started flyin'-"

"That's impossible," Fred interrupted, frowning in a mirror image of his imaginary counter-part's expression.

"Yeah," Rose agreed, "that's just what you said in the dream." Fred's eyebrows shot up. "You know me quite well," he told her.

"Course I do," she said. "May I go on?" Rose needed to get used his tendency toward interruptions, but couldn't keep the exasperation out of her voice. Fred nodded at her, tugging again at the tassel in earnest.

"You grabbed hold of the console screen, like you wanted to see what was goin' on," she began again. Fred nodded in approval of his dream counterpart's actions. "There was just this tiny speck of gold right in the middle of the screen, and one of your hands started to flicker. Your clothes changed color a few times, too," she added. Fred was paying rapt attention to her story, and she smiled inwardly. She had missed this - relating a tale of anything weird, the Doctor hanging on her every word before they began a proper investigation. She'd felt like sheriff's deputy to the universe.

"Then you kind of kicked off toward the door, and opened it just enough to see what was going on outside," Rose went on. She felt herself frown as she remembered what happened next, and looked into the blazing hearth for a moment. The flames put her uneasily in the mind of a certain wolf's eyes. When she looked back at him, he was gazing at her intently. "Go on," he said.

She took a deep breath. "There was nothing out there, Fred. No stars, no planets, just... black. Except for this one bit o' gold, getting bigger as we got closer to it." She stopped and swallowed, trying to figure out how to describe what she saw in words. "It was running, only in a different direction from where we were headed. Like if we were going north, it was heading west. Only it stayed in one place, just running in one spot. It got bigger or we got closer, and it was beautiful, Fred, I wish you could have seen it. And it was one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen."

Fred had stopped toying with bits of thread, giving all of his focus to Rose, eyes locked on hers. "What did it look like?" he asked softly.

Rose licked her lips. "It was... it was all gold coloured and had a long tail and a snout. It looked like a wolf. Its eyes were glowing and all this golden mist came off it when it moved. It even breathed gold dust." She bit down on her lower lip, trying to figure out how else to describe it. She glanced around the room, as though seeking the right words. Finally she gave up and looked at Fred once more. "Like I said, it was beautiful," she said finally. "And at the end of the dream it turned to me - or to you - and it howled." Rose swallowed before going on, "I felt that howl in each of my bones. It was sort of beyond sound."

She paused, waiting for his reaction. Fred's eyebrows had drawn down, and he turned to gaze into the flames. His fingers had captured the bit of tassel once again, and Rose could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he twisted at the fabric. Curious as she was for his interpretation, she savored the sight of his expression. Those ever-present butterflies trembled within her, and her cheeks gained the slightest tinge of pink. The wolf in her dreams - her own Bad Wolf, no doubt - had nothing on him in this moment, reflections of the firelight dancing along the fine structure of his face as he pondered the meaning of her dream.

Fred turned to face her, appearing not to notice any change in Rose's colouring. He opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it, exhaling through his nose. His jaw twitched, and he began again, "I could find out," he said, intense brown eyes searching hers as he went on. "Your dream. I could look inside your mind and find out what it was you saw. If you want me to," he added, seemingly unsure of what of her reaction would be.

"So you really can get inside my head?" Rose asked, expression troubled as she imagined the implications.

"Yes," Fred said, nodding. "But only with your permission. I can't just decide "oh, I wonder what Rose is thinking about my hair just now," and reach in for the answer. It doesn't work that way. We need to touch."

Rose frowned at him, deep in thought. "You've done it before, though, haven't you? That night when you said my name, when you were in the other universe. Isn't that the same thing?"

"My clever Rose," he praised with a smile. "Yes, but no. I did need to get into your head to call you, but I had the help of the TARDIS and the power of a dying star. For something like this, I need to reach out and touch you physically. Sort of like Mr. Spock in Star Trek, only less dramatic."

"I don't like anything going into my head without permission," she told him. "But you're not just anyone, and you don't have creepy pointed ears, and anyway you have my permission, so let's give it a try, yeah?"

"There's one more thing," Fred went on.

"Isn't there always?" Rose asked, raising her eyebrows with a smile.

"No, not always," he responded, shaking his head in emphasis, "but in this case, there is. I will be able to see into your mind - and I promise to try not to look any further than the dream-"

"To _try_?" she interrupted him. _Oh, dear God, this could be very dangerous indeed_.

"To _try_," he stated firmly, "Though I make no promises. You might be able to see my own thoughts, too, Rose. Sometimes it works both ways. Of course, this is all with the condition that my telepathic abilities are still in working order." Fred paused, waiting for any objections.

Rose's mind was working on overtime. Fred's head contained memories that belonged to the Doctor. Here she had the chance of seeing everything they had gone through, from the Doctor's perspective. Part of her felt dirty at the idea of using Fred to get at the Doctor's thoughts, but most of her was too excited and terrified at the prospect to care. She made up her mind and nodded at him, hoping to maintain enough self-discipline to keep her selfish interests hidden from him. Rose did hate herself sometimes.

Fred sat up, and Rose followed suit. He shifted on the couch to better face her, and she folded her legs to position herself in front of him. Her right and his left leg touched at the knees, and it took every effort to mentally prepare herself for his journey into her mind. He was reaching out with both hands, then gently pressed his fingertips against her temples.

"Try to relax," he said, closing his eyes as the physical contact was made. "It will make things easier for both of us," he added with an audible swallow. Though it pained her to do it, Rose closed her eyes as well. Images of the TARDIS made their way to the front of her mind, and she felt something - _else_ - gently prodding along the edges of her consciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes:

SNOW DAY! Had a whole day to just write and relax... it was lovely. Listened to the soundtrack from "The Hours," by Philip Glass.. great music to write to. This chapter hearkens back to one of the Dr. Who Audiobooks (read by David Tennant), "The Stone Rose." I hope you all enjoy it, and please tell me what you think in a review... you've been wonderful with feedback! Writing for Rose and Fred (and the Doctor!) is one of the hardest things I've ever done, because I hold them in such high esteem. I know I keep saying it, but... I really want to do them justice. . P.S.- also trying out what seems to be a fad in fan-fic... adding a snippet of poetry to the beginning of the chapter:-)

**Chapter 4: O Fortuna**

_"O Fortuna  
velut luna  
statu variabilis,  
semper crescis  
aut decrescis;"_

("O Fortune  
like the Moon  
you are changable,  
ever waxing  
and waning ... ")

From "Carmina Burana"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
_Oh my God, that has to be him, _Rose thought to herself in wonder. The slight pressure increased on her temples, and she gasped as her frame of thought somehow _shifted._

A vision of the console screen was brought to the forefront of her mind. She saw the tiny golden speck once more, watched as the Doctor in her dream sprang toward the TARDIS door. Her eyes shifted beneath her eyelids, forehead wrinkled in concentration.

Fred watched with her as the golden wolf came into view. She wasn't sure how it was that she felt him within her mind, only knew that _something_ she associated with the Doctor was more present that it had ever been - aside from the time he had led her to Bad Wolf Bay. Rose could not understand what it was about the Doctor — and Fred — that she was feeling right then. It was the most intimate thing she had ever experienced in her relatively short life. She felt that if she could put words to the sensation- to this essence that was so _him_ - Rose felt that it must the ultimate knowledge of a person's being.

It took a serious effort to remember how to breathe.

_Breathe in, breath out, Rose,_ she told herself. _Just keep it cool. Breathe. Calm down. You trust him._ Her inner pep-talk seemed to work, and she felt herself relax as a tiny voice bubbled up from within: _This is your chance. Now, while he's distracted... It might be your only chance to see what he was really thinking all those years ago. _Rose flinched inwardly at her own audacity, but could not help herself. She was only human.

She reached out with a small part of her mind. Rose had no idea what she was doing, but lifted what she imagined to be a thin tendril of her very soul toward the edge of thought. She inhaled slowly, witnessing her dream along with Fred in another part of her mind's eye, and thought of the Doctor. Of his brilliance, his smile, his heart - and nearly jumped when a new image came forward. Rose swallowed hard, reached back along her consciousness to find Fred still occupied with the wolf.

She was a passenger behind the eyes of her Doctor, seeing the world as he did during this moment. Before her was a life-size statue of the Goddess Fortuna, Horn of Plenty in hand, carved intricately into marble. _I've seen this before, _she thought, suddenly remembering their brief foray into ancient Rome. She'd been turned into stone, and recalled the Doctor telling her that he'd despaired of never being able to bring her back to life.

I must be in the British Museum, Rose mused to herself. _From the time that the Doctor thought this statue was literally me turned to the stone, only it wasn't..._ He'd made it himself, aside from a bit of help from Michaelangelo. She remembered just where the wrist had cracked, leaving the present statue with only one hand. _But why am I here? Why this place?_ She wasn't able to ponder the issue for very long, because she felt Fred's fingertips pressing harder into her temples.

Rose quickly called the image of her dream to the forefront of thought. It was as though she were witnessing a cinema she'd seen before, as the very same progression of events came to pass once more within her mind's eye. She felt Fred tense — physically and mentally — as the wolf turned to look at them, and he jerked his fingertips away from her temples as it lifted its head to howl.

Rose opened her eyes to find Fred looking straight at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. In an apparent realization that he was staring, he shut his mouth and looked down at his hands.

"What?" Rose asked him warily, only he responded with silence. "What is it?" She reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezed as his eyes rose to meet hers.

"Rose," he began. "I think I once told you that I don't believe in coincidence."

"Yeah," she answered with a nod, dropping her hand from his shoulder.

"And I use the term loosely," he went on. "'Belief' is a tricky word because it implies faith, which in turn implicates religion, none of which has anything to do with what I'm about to tell you." Fred turned to look at the fire and continued, head cocked to the side: "Strange, I don't recall any recent problems with vocabulary. Donna strikes again, I suppose," he ended with a sigh.

"You were saying about coincidence, Fred?" Rose prompted with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, yes!" He smiled delightedly at her. "Coincidence! Funny thing about coincidence is that it tends to sneak up when you least expect it, especially when you don't tend to think it exists in the first place. In the case of your dream, however," he held up a finger as though to keep her from interrupting and continued, "I think we can write it off. Now. Before I give my own opinion - which may or may not be superior to your own - what do _you_ think it might have meant, Rose? All notions of clairvoyance notwithstanding, of course," he added.

"What?" she asked, sounding bewildered. "My dream? Or coincidence?"

"Your dream," he replied. "Any ideas?" Fred sat with hands folded in his lap, waiting patiently for her reply.

Rose remained silent for a moment to gather her thoughts. "I think the wolf is me. Or at least a _part_ of me. The Bad Wolf part. And how it stayed still... well, maybe that just means that it felt trapped, and it's runnin' to get away."

"Or," Fred interjected, "it could be running toward something."

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding. "And the TARDIS, with the Doctor... and the different colors of his coat, his hand flickering and all that. I think that must mean you, Fred. The way you were born, out of the metacrisis, yeah?"

"And?" he prodded. "Anything else? Golden dust, for example?"

Rose swallowed. "I guess- I mean, it looked like the energy from the Time vortex that comes out when you regenerate. Was it the same thing?"

A corner of Fred's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Your guess is as good as mine, Rose." Eyebrows shooting halfway up her forehead, Rose opened her mouth to interrupt. He grabbed her hands in his, and leaned down to put his face directly in front of hers. Rose stopped herself from pulling back, forcing herself to return stare for stare.

"No, I mean it," he repeated adamantly. "Your guess _is_ as good as mine in this. And in everything else." He looked down to their hands, moved his thumb over her knuckles as he continued, "When I initiated the telepathic link, I failed to realize just how different — how much I've changed from who and what I used to be. I may be more than human, but I'm still far less than a fully-fledged Time Lord." He stopped to swallow. "Looking into your mind, Rose, I wasn't able to simply pick out snapshots from your dream, and go over them as long as I liked before moving on to something else."

"And you were able to do that before?" Rose asked him softly. He looked so very lost that she had to fight the instinct to gather him into her arms. But she wasn't ready to let the issue go just yet, so she settled on a gentle squeeze of his fingers.

"Yes," he answered in a sigh. "And," he continued, raising his eyes to look knowingly into hers, "I would have been able to stop you from invading my own mind." Rose held her breath under the force behind that gaze, but stubbornly kept eye contact.

"What did you see, Rose?" he asked softly. "I don't really mind that you did it — in fact, I was prepared for you to try. Just hadn't expected to find myself defenseless."

"I didn't stay for very long," Rose assured him hurriedly, and he nodded, urging her to continue. "All I saw was the statue room inside the British Museum. The one with the sculpture of me inside."

"Ahhhh," he breathed, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head back. "I see." He let go her hand to run fingers haphazardly through his hair. "Yes. Of course you did."

Rose was utterly bewildered. "I'm not following," she began, and stopped when Fred let go her other hand, shifting his body to lay down upon his back. He crossed his arms behind his head as Rose followed suit, propping her chin on a fist once more to keep a close eye on his expression.

Fred's mouth was shut, eyes closed as he breathed in heavily through his nose. The tiny muscle in his jaw twitched as he opened his eyes to stare at the bare ceiling. "It started just after you were gone," he began in tones of recollection. "Gone to this universe, I mean." He sighed, and turned his head to face her.

"I missed you terribly. Nothing was ever remotely the same." He swallowed, eyes shaded in memory. "I would see a random blonde dancing in a stranger's arms, and - Bang! Presto! There you were, standing directly in front me. Trick of the mind. Or some problem would present itself, one that you would see around in no time, and I'd find myself pining over your absence." He screwed up his face and continued, "It paints rather a pathetic portrait in retrospect."

Rose smiled down at him, tongue poking out between her teeth as she reached out to play her fingers through his hair. "You give me far too much credit," she chided him.

"Absence does make the heart grow fonder," Fred admitted, closing his eyes as her fingertips raked along his scalp. "But it couldn't have been more fond than it was already. I was truly lost without you, Rose. And Poor Martha," he winced slightly in recollection, "I took her on a round of trips to the places we'd visited, hoping memories would ignite the same feeling I had when you were there."

Rose continued to weave patterns through the silky strands of hair, and Fred went on in his confessions: "Didn't take long for her to figure it out," he said in tones of self-derision. "Martha had feelings for me that I wasn't able to return. I knew how she felt and I ignored it, selfish in my need for company. She left me, in the end."

He sighed, opening his eyes and turning to regard Rose, his expression resigned. "Can't say that I blame her. Awful traveling companion I'd turned out to be — always moping around, hoping to see you coming round the next corner. I nearly drove myself mad with the futility of it."

Rose's heart swelled with each revelation. The Doctor had never talked to her like this — had he been planning on doing so if they were to meet again? Or was it Fred's humanity that was allowing him to vent these feelings toward her? She felt a tiny flame inside of her begin to rekindle itself, and her fingers running through his hair began to tingle with the possibilities it revealed.

"Eventually, I decided to stop being self-destructive, and went to the one place I knew I would always find you," but Rose interrupted him before he could go on:

"I remember! You came to visit me that new years before we'd ever met," she said, words tumbling out of her in excitement. "It was so dark that I could barely see you, but I remembered once you regenerated. You looked so sick, I thought you were dying."

Rose cut herself off as Fred's expression became more and more distressed. Didn't he remember? Or had he never come to visit her at all, and it was only a fabrication of her desperate mind? _No! It was my _own _Doctor that night, _she berated herself furiously. Her thoughts moved in panic as she imagined the implications of her beloved Doctor, left alone in the freezing night to die without anyone who cared.

"Rose," Fred began with an eerie note of coldness in his voice, "that wasn't me, and you'd better not say anything more about it. We don't want to risk paradox," he warned, brow drawn down and lips compressed into a straight line. "Best to not even think of it. He should never, _ever_ have visited you before-"

Taking a deep breath, he rose onto his right elbow to face Rose. Her mind was still reeling and it must have been visible, because Fred reached out to tilt her chin upwards and crushed his lips to hers. "Don't think," he whispered against her mouth, pressing the tip of his tongue to the small space between her lips.

All thought flew from her mind as his mouth moved against hers, and she parted her lips to grant him access. Fred took her lower lip between his, and his tongue dazzled her senses for an endless series of seconds. Finally, Fred pulled himself away with a soft moan. His breathing was ragged, face flushed as he gazed longingly at her, but he placed his fingers to her mouth as Rose leaned in to begin their kiss anew. "No," he breathed harshly, "not until you know the difference between us."

By "us," she knew that he meant himself and the Doctor. Rose pulled back reluctantly and nodded in understanding. Fred lowered himself onto his back once more, and Rose lay on her side, cradling the side of her face in her arm. "The statue," Fred began again, still breathing erratically but determined to keep her distracted, "I went to visit the statue in the British Museum. It was as close to you as I could get without crossing the Void."

Rose kept her hands to herself, afraid that her own body might betray her. She waited in silence for him to go on.

Fred took another breath, let it out slowly as he closed his eyes. "Do you remember Krop Tor?" he asked her. "Yes," she answered, knowing that he wouldn't see her nod. She wished she could get the huskiness out of her voice. Though she knew his kiss was meant to shock her senseless, her lips were nonetheless burning from his ministrations.

"I had to make a choice," he said, opening his eyes to peer up at the reflection of the flames. "In the end, it all came down to a leap of faith. I spoke of 'belief' earlier, Rose," voice calming as he grasped onto explanation as a drowning sailor would to a life raft. "This was one of those exceedingly rare examples when belief played a serious role in a very major decision. An enormous role — enough to place the fate of the universe on the shoulders of what I believed in."

Fred turned to face her, firelight dancing in his eyes. "To this day, I remember exactly what I told the beast in the pit." His pupils were enormous, and Rose's heart began to hammer against her ribcage. "I told him that if- " his voice became hoarse, and he swallowed before continuing, "'that if I believe in anything — just one thing — I believe in _her_.'"

Fred propped his chin up with a fist, the better to look into Rose's eyes. "In _you_, Rose," he repeated softly.

Rose's vision began to blur as he went on, reaching out to run a finger along her cheek. "That's why I visited the statue. I was utterly lost in a universe without you," he continued, voice low and fervent, deep brown eyes shining at her. He shook his head slowly from side to side. "I've never believed in gods or angels or demons. But I know that they give you something to live for - something that keeps you going when there's nothing else left."

Fred curled his fingers along her ear, trailed his thumb along her jaw. Lines crinkled around dark eyes as he smiled down at her, "You do that for me, Rose. You still do. You're my own Fortuna."

"Your lucky pants," she gently reminded him through tears.

"More than that," he said, reaching out with his other hand and thumbing away a stray tear. "I meant it when I told you that I love you." His smile began to fade as his tone became more serious. "I do. More than anything," he breathed softly, and tilting her face up to his, gently kissed her swollen lips. His mouth rested softly against hers for a moment - not moving, not demanding - until he broke the kiss to pull back and look at her.

Their bodies lay facing each other, and as Fred finally broke eye contact to pull the blanket up and around them, Rose tried not to think of her Doctor. Though he wasn't the one who had just reached out to envelop her in his arms, she knew that comforting this man was just as important as loving the Doctor. She rested her head beneath his chin, crossing an ankle over his feet as she placed a kiss on his neck.

Fred's hand rested in her hair, gently caressing the golden strands, and he laughed softly as she accidentally tickled his adam's apple with her nose. "Sweet dreams, Rose," he whispered to her gently, fingers moving along her hairline.

"Sweet dreams, Fred," she whispered into his neck, and her heart was beating hard.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Notes:

For those who have read chapter 5, I apologize for the lack of editing when I initially posted it. It now has new material and a great deal less typos. I hope. This chapter begins the real journey... now it begins.

**Chapter 5: One Hand, One Heart**

"Now it begins, now we start -  
One hand, one heart."

- Leonard Bernstein

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
2012, February 23rd  
Alternative London  
The Tyler Mansion

"Aaaaiiiiaahhh!"

The woeful cries of Tony Tyler - toddler, terror and alarm clock all built into one - awoke Rose from a blessedly dreamless slumber. She groaned and stirred in the blankets, reaching up to scrub at her eyes. Forcing them open, her eyelids felt like heavy sandbags as she blinked against the sunlight. She stretched her arms and legs and gave a great, jaw-cracking yawn. As her arms settled back to the couch, she noted the empty space beside her. The Doctor had always been an early riser, but his absence somehow magnified the chill of the air against her skin.

Rubbing her arms to heat them, Rose hoisted herself off of the sofa and glanced at the old grandfather clock: 7:28am. Her eyes widened in amazement that she'd slept so late on a weekday- Wednesday, February the 23rd, if she recalled correctly. Jackie had probably kept Tony cooped upstairs to let her get some rest. Rose headed toward voices coming from the kitchen, and quickened her footsteps at the delicious smell of waffles.

Jackie, Pete, Tony and Fred were talking animatedly on the semi-circular booth surrounding the kitchen table. The plastic cushions were bright red with inlaid sparkles - a garish addition by her mother - and the entire tabletop was of white marble, striated with blue veins and supported by a thick marble pedestal. Empty plates, strewn with leftover crumbs and streaks of marmalade, lay before the table's occupants. A square plate holding a tower of waffles had been set in the middle of the table. Jackie sat on the edge of the bench, bouncing a most distraught Tony on her lap as she attempted to maintain a conversation with her husband. Pete was seated next to Jackie, and had just turned to speak to Fred when Rose entered the room. Fred looked up at her, grinned and exclaimed, "Rose!" He jumped out of his seat, nearly knocking over a carton of orange juice in his eagerness to greet her.

"Last I checked," she agreed, unable to keep the laughter from her voice as he threw his arms around her and spun her in a circle. Rose clung to his neck for dear life, her legs swinging out as the room circled its way around her. Oh, how she'd missed this! The way levity came off of him in sparks, and how he would sweep her up in the tides of his spontaneous joy.

As Fred let her feet rest once more upon solid ground, he removed his hands to place them in his coat pockets. He smiled delightedly as her, bounced on his heels as her eyes acclimated to the standard rate of the earth's rotation.

"Good morning," she said, reaching a hand out to the marble island in the middle of the kitchen to steady her balance.

"And a good morning to you," he said. "Jackie made waffles. I didn't know she could cook! And from a real toaster!" Fred pointed to a shiny appliance on the island that was covered in crumbs. He gazed at the toaster as an archeologist would at the ark of the covenant. "And they popped!" he exclaimed, accentuating the "p." "Oooh, you should have seen them, Rose…" his hands mimicked the waffle's flight. " I wanted to see what would happen if I tinkered with the springs to make them twice as strong, then covered them in marmalade before we put them in so that they'd stick to the ceiling!"

Fred gestured with his head towards her mother, shoving hands into his pockets once more. "She wouldn't let me, of course," he related with a wounded expression. "No sense of fun in that one. It's no wonder Tony's such a bother; I doubt she'd let him in a sandbox for fear he'd get dirty his fingernails."

Rose's eyebrows rose as he called her brother a "bother" - granted she didn't like him half the time either, but he _was_ family. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he went right on:

"There's a fresh pot of hot water on the stove," he pointed towards the gleaming copper kettle, "and tea and coffee are over here." Fred took hold of her hand, and Rose, mollified, let him take her on a guided tour of the morning's breakfast.

He led her to the counter, reached into a cardboard box and pulled out a tiny plastic carton. "_This_," he proclaimed, "is a coffee pod! You put it inside the coffee making engine and it pours you a cup of coffee, straightaway! No more grindy filters!" He held the tiny carton up to her face, tapping it on the lid with an index finger, "Coffee Pods! What will they think of next? Solarium sachéts? Red wine rucksacks? Atipose attachés?" He quirked an eyebrow as he went on, "certainly none of the latter, I'd hope." He stopped for a moment, tapping the carton to his lips as he peered out the window. "I wonder if they've come up with Coffee Pods in our universe?"

Fred looked at Rose just as the words left his mouth, then turned back to the cardboard box. "Cuppa tea?" he asked her, replacing the tiny carton with considerable care.

Rose looked grateful. "Sounds lovely," she answered.

Fred nodded. "I'll get it - you go have a sit with your family. What kind?"

Rose opened the cupboard and pulled out two white mugs - at least her mother had shown some taste with the table settings. "Lady gray, thanks," she responded, setting the mugs down by the kettle.

"Our lady and earl gray, coming right up," he said lightly, picking up the assortment of teas and beginning to rifle through them. Rose grabbed a plate and some silverware, and made her way to the kitchen table. She sat down next to Pete, nabbing a few waffles before asking her mother what the problem was with Tony.

"Fell and cut his elbow," she answered, blowing a lock of hair out of her face as she continued to bounce him on her knee. Jackie's neat ponytail appeared to be losing strands already - thanks to Tony's grabby hands, no doubt.

"How?" Rose asked, tucking her own hair behind her ears as she reached for the marmalade. Jackie cut a scathing glance in Pete's direction, who in turn cleared his throat and addressed Rose:

"Tony wanted to learn how to play football," he declared, somewhat defensively. "I took him out back to show him the ropes, and he fell trying to make a catch playing goalie."

"Well of _course_ he did!" Jackie exclaimed. "At six in the bloody morning! He probably couldn't even see it coming it was so dark out… And you expect me to believe it was _his_ idea?" Jackie rolled her eyes at no one in particular, turning her attention back to her son.

Tony was a slightly built three-and-a-half-year-old with curly hair the color of spun gold. His eyes were blue, his cheeks rosy and full, and his expression was generally adorable enough to have the world wrapped around his little finger. "Oof-baww," he gurgled to his father, a tiny trickle of drool making its way down his chin. Tony smiled to reveal two perfect rows of gleaming white baby teeth. "Oof-baww!"

"Oof-baw!" Fred repeated, nodding in agreement with the toddler as he set down two steaming mugs and climbed into the bench beside Rose. "I know I've heard that before... an obscure dialect of the Jaggarath, if I recall correctly," he confided to Rose's ear. "Oi, Jackie!" he shouted in her mother's direction.

"What is it?" she asked him irritably. "I'm right here, no need to shout."

"Ah, sorry," he assured her, complete lacking any tone of sincerity. "It's just that your son here seems to have picked up an alien language. Thought you ought to know," he added, turning the mug around in his hands.

Jackie narrowed her eyes at Fred. "It probably came to him natural, havin' you around," she replied.

"Ooh! Was that supposed to be an insult?" he demanded, eyebrows shooting up in mock-surprise. "Are you trying to _offend_ me, Jackie Tyler?" Fred sounded shocked and even pleased.

"Don't look so thrilled," she told him, shaking her head in disgust. "Insults aren't something to go lookin' for. Not on this planet, at any rate."

"Of course they are," he explained patiently. "To insult someone is to show that you care enough to do so. It's the first step toward reconciliation." Fred grinned winningly at her. "And those waffles smell _fantastic_, Jackie."

She frowned at him for a moment. "You just went on about insults bein' good," she began, wrinkles forming upon her brow. "Does sayin' my waffles smell nice mean that you want to start a fight, then?"

Fred shook his head. "No. No, no don't," he admonished. "Really, don't try." He raised his mug to sip at the steaming hot tea, then set it down again to continue: "I'm afraid your mind isn't capable of understanding that sort of logic. You'll only get hurt."

Rose choked on her tea, beating a fist into her chest as her face turned colors. Fred turned to her, looking concerned: "Tea too hot?"

She swallowed and managed to croak out, "down the wrong pipe," and he nodded slowly. The phone rang, and Jackie rose to answer it, setting Tony on the seat next to Pete. He looked up at his father, his torso weaving back and forth as he knocked a hand repeatedly on his knee. "Oof-ball!" he cried, tears welling up in his eyes once more.

"Does he say anything else?" Fred asked. Pete just looked at him, then picked up his son and stood up to rock him a few feet away from the table. Tony gave a small hiccup of contentment, resting his head on Pete's shoulder and shoving a thumb into his mouth.

"It's for you, love!" Jackie called, reaching into the kitchen to hand the wireless phone to Pete. They heard him say "Pete Tyler," as he made his way toward the other room, Tony still perched in his arms.

"Domesticity seems to be treating him well," Fred remarked, watching Pete's retreat from the kitchen.

"Mm," Rose affirmed, nodding her head as she chewed on a bit of waffle. Her eyes fell on the empty plate in front of him - not a crumb to be seen. She swallowed and looked up at him. "Not hungry?" she asked.

"I should be," he replied with a slight frown. "Had a bit of a headache since I woke up. Nothing against the waffles - they really do smell delightful. I just can't fathom the idea of stomaching them." His stared at nothing in particular, seemingly lost in thought.

"That's not like you," Rose told him, lowering her fork to the table. "Has it gotton any worse?"

Fred blinked, and turned to regard her. "Not particularly," he said slowly. "It's sort of a dull throb, originating somewhere along the divide between my frontal and parietal lobe," he went on to explain, gesturing to the top of his head. "It's hard to tell, being born yesterday, but I imagine I should have more of an appetite than I do right now. I should think I'd be famished," he added.

Rose frowned at him. "Maybe- " but her words were cut off as Pete re-entered the room. Tony wasn't with him. "That was Torchwood," he told them. Rose saw Fred's jaw firm as he sat up straight.

"They've been picking up an unidentified signal since late last night. None of our sources can confirm the origin, but it's steady and very strong. Apparently it hasn't stopped since it began," he finished, glancing first at Fred, then at Rose.

"What sort of sensors are picking up the signal?" Fred asked, curious despite his misgivings.

"When we first started planning the dimension cannon," Rose explained, "we hired a team of experts from all over the world. One of them came up with a device - sort of a by-product of his research - that would resonate when it picked up certain frequencies."

"It was Dr. Bartholemeus Nielsen," Pete corrected her. "We call him Bartho for short."

"And he's alright with that?" Fred asked. Rose elbowed him in the ribs. "Course he is," she chided him. "He's the one who came up with the nick-name."

"At any rate," Pete went on, "the phone call was from him. He's been up all night trying to isolate the signal, find out where it's coming from." He paused for a moment, hesitating, then turned to Fred: "We'd appreciate any help you might be willing to give on this, Fred."

Pete and Rose remained silent as Fred tilted his head upward, closing his eyes as he sighed in resignation. "Alright," he intoned testily, easing himself out of the bench. Rose frowned as he put a hand to his head. Catching her reaction, he gave her a rueful smile. "Stood up too quickly. Although," he admitted, "an ibuprofin couldn't hurt."

Rose stood up as well, dusting the crumbs off of her pants. "I'll get some for you," she told him, reaching past his shoulder to take a bottle of tablets from the cupboard behind Fred. She took his hand, turned his palm up and gave him two tabs. He opened his mouth to thank her, but she shushed him and stepped into the pantry, emerging a moment later with two energy bars.

"They're not much for taste," she explained while handing them to him, " but they'll do in a pinch."

Fred nodded in understanding. "Thank you," he said, and pocketed the bars as he tossed the ibuprofin into his mouth. "One more thing: any chance of borrowing a suit, Pete? I'd forgotten how malodorous human perspiration can get, and my clothing could do with a good wash." He yanked at the neck of his t-shirt, took a whiff of himself, and pulled a face: "Could do with a hot shower, myself," he added. "You could have said something," he whispered to Rose in reproach.

"Didn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities," she told him with a shrug.

"Shower's upstairs," Pete said. "Rose can show you. I'll see if I can find a something that will fit, and leave it outside the washroom." He turned to Rose. "I'm going to get back in touch with Bartho, tell him we're on our way. Be ready to go in an hour."

Rose and Fred watched him leave, heads turning in unison as he moved purposefully toward the sitting room. Once he had gone, Fred turned to Rose: "Is he always so… militaristic first thing in the morning?" he asked her in an undertone.

"Only when he hasn't slept," she answered. "So yeah, I suppose he is." Reaching out to take his hand, she tugged him towards the kitchen stairwell, and they began the rickety ascent. The stairs rotated along a central axis, as though they were scaling a castle turret.

"I like this staircase," Fred told her, all enthusiasm. "Much more flavor than the main one, all grandiosity and aristocratic pomp. These are the ones that have stories. Oo!" he exclaimed, "stairs for _stories_, get it?"

"Ha, ha," she said in a monotone. "Here I go, up the stairs with Fred Astaire."

Fred stopped dead in his tracks. She turned to see what was the matter, and found him standing stock-still, hand still in hers. He said nothing, only looked at her. Slowly, he raised a foot and ascended to the step just below hers. Their eyes were now level, and neither of them blinked. The only sound was their breathing, and Fred leaned in so that his face was mere inches from hers. She could feel his breath, warm on her skin. Rose's heart had made its way into her throat by this point, and she subconsciously licked her lips as Fred's hand rose to linger before her face. Then:

_Pop!_ Fred's fingers snapped before her eyes to make her blink, and he shouted, "HA! I won the staring contest!" He let go her hand and raced around her to the second floor landing. Rose nearly collapsed against the wall, rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shouted after him, "That was SO unfair!"

Unable to hold back a smile, she gathered herself and caught up with him. Fred grinned cheekily at her, mouth slightly open and eyes full of mischief, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Where's the shower, Rose? Much as I'd love to spend all day playing games, we have work to do." Rose's jaw worked as she tried to come up with a suitably scathing reply. She hated it when he rendered her tongue-tied!

"Rude," he told her by way of explanation. "It seems you've forgotten how rude I can be. New new new Doctor, that's me - thrice rude and twice as smelly."

Rose snorted and grabbed his hand to yank him in the direction of the shower. She took the itchiest towel she could find from the hall closet, and opened the washroom door for him. "After you, sir," she said, shoving him into the room with a mock curtsey. "You should find all necessary toiletries within reach. Do enjoy your stay," she told him sarcastically, and shut the door in his face.

She turned on a heel and was half-way to her own bedroom when she heard him call after her: "Rose!"

Closing her eyes for a brief second, she made her way back to the shower. Fred's head poked out from behind the door. "Yes?" she asked, as patiently as she could.

A slow smile spread across his face. "I'm glad we're together again," he said.

_Damn him for knowing _exactly _what to say!_ Rose cursed inwardly. That smile always undid her, and he knew it. But she also knew that he meant it sincerely. "So'm I," she agreed, shaking her head with a rueful grin. "See you in a bit." Fred nodded and closed the door.

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2012, Februrary 23rd  
The TORCHWOOD Institute

Snow was just beginning to drop from the sky in large, flaky clusters as Rose, Pete and Fred made their way up the stairs and into the main entrance of TORCHWOOD. Pete nodded at the guards posted outside of the rotary gates, and flashed an I.D. badge to grant them access. All three moved past the initial security check, and Pete turned to face Fred and Rose.

"I'm going to have an I.D. printed for Fred at the information desk," he told them, and headed towards the end of the entrance hall. Rose watched as Fred approached one of three exhibits decorating the center of the lobby, heels echoing in the watery acoustics of the room. Her father had found a navy blue suit that ran just short at the ankles, highlighting Fred's trainers. He wore a white button-down shirt beneath the jacket, with a burgundy silk tie. He hadn't used any product to gel up his hair, which remained in its natural state - sticking up at the front, the rest of it relatively calm.

All in all, he looked quite dashing. _As usual_, she admitted to herself with a smile. His head tilted up to observe a crystalline model of the earth's crust. Tectonic plates of tinted glass shifted along the globe, forming many plausible versions of what might happen to continental drift in near millennia. She could almost see him reaching into his overcoat pockets to pull out those geeky, thick-rimmed glasses of his. Rose closed her eyes, striking the image of her Doctor. _No use torturing myself,_ she chided. Still, the tiny flame that had been reborn in her last night had yet to fade away completely.

Opening her eyes, she found Fred looking at her from across the exhibit. "Tired?" he asked her softly.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Bit of a long night." She grinned at him, tongue visible at the corner of her mouth.

Fred returned the smile. "Yeah," he agreed, and drifted toward her to take her hand in his. "Shall we?" he asked, eyebrows raised and head tilted upward as he looked down at her.

"We shall," she nodded, and swinging their hands back and forth between them, Fred and Rose made their way to the information desk.

Where both of them received a shock.

Behind the desk was a woman they both recognized from a long ago encounter. She had long brown hair, deep brown, knowing eyes and full lips. Rose and Fred turned to each other in bewilderment, each recognizing their own expression on the other's face. Pete cleared his throat.

"Rose, Fred, this is Gwyneth Cooper," he said by way of introduction. "Gwyneth, this is my daughter, Rose Tyler, and our very good friend, Dr. Fred Noble. It's Gwyneth's first day here," Pete explained.

Fred continued to stare at Gwyneth until Rose elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow!" he whined, and muttered "part human, remember?" for Rose's ears alone.

Ignoring Fred's exaggerated pangs, Rose held out her hand to Gwyneth, who took it gratefully. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tyler," she said with a warm smile. "Like Mr. Tyler said, it's my first day. I appreciate your welcome."

Rose couldn't help smiling in return. "How's your first day coming along?" she asked conversationally. Fred had straightened himself and was listening attentively.

"I quite like it here," she told them. "There's a lot of security checks they put you through in the hiring process, and it came as a sort of shock that I got the job. Not that I've done anything illegal," she added hastily. "It's just that I thought, the job being so competitive, I wouldn't stand much of a chance."

"There, now," Fred spoke up. "Clearly they think you're special, or you wouldn't have been chosen for the job." He smiled and turned to Rose. "Isn't that right, Rose?" Fred's eyes widened knowingly at her, signaling that the game was afoot. Rose nodded, holding his gaze for a second before turning back to Gwyneth.

"You'll probably think I'm mad, but I swear we've met before. Do you come from an old welsh family, Gwyneth?"

Gwyneth straightened in her chair, looking from Rose to Fred to Pete, then back to Rose. "Actually, yes, I do. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, no, of course not!" Rose assured her. "It's just that I once knew a girl who looked just like you. Gwyneth... do you have any idea what they do here at TORCHWOOD?" Pete frowned at Rose, opening his mouth. Rose moved her hand back and forth underneath the desk to cut him off, and Fred slowly turned his head from side to side. Pete seemed to take the hint, and kept quiet.

Gwyneth appeared to think for a moment, rifled through a few sheets of paper to gain time. "Well, I've heard that they had something to do with the spaceships that show up around Christmastime. They stopped them from harming us, I mean. From what I've read, they're involved with extra-terrestrial, or supernatural technologies. Things like that."

"And you-" Rose began, "you felt like you'd fit in here?"

Gwyneth looked confused and turned her attention to Pete. "Is this part of introductory protocol, sir? I have nothing to hide, but I don't want to risk saying anything I shouldn't."

Pete shook his head. "Not specifically, no," he answered her. "But in this case, I think it would be prudent to answer her questions."

"We don't think you've done anything wrong, Gwyneth," Rose told her soothingly. "In fact, I applaud your dedication to the team. Not many would think to question the motives of fellow employees. It's always good to keep a sharp eye."

Gwyneth nodded. "In answer to your question, Miss Tyler - yes. I did feel like I would fit in. I've always had a knack for understanding people. Not seeing the future or anything, but if I look deep inside of them, I can tell certain things."

"Like what, for example?" Rose asked. "What do you see in me?"

Gwyneth looked into Rose's eyes for a good twenty seconds without saying a word. Rose opened her mouth to ask what she saw, and jumped as Gwyneth abruptly wheeled her chair away from the desk, shoulders jarring as the chair hit the wall behind her.

"I see the storm in the heart of the sun," she whispered, and her three visitors had to lean forward to hear her. "Fire and ice and rage, a wolf howling in the eye of a tempest, a sea of gold," Gwyneth's eyes began to glaze over, seemingly going into a trance. "Time as a puzzle, the pieces broken and scattered... a severed hand, a man inside a cage - so small, _too_ small…" she shook her head, tears forming in her eyes as she went on. "but ancient and forever... and all that is, all that was, all that ever could be-" Gwyneth seemed to wobble in her seat, and her eyes rolled up into her head as she fell, fainting, to the marble floor.

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	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the delay on this chapter! I was too sick to think for a while, but it's finally finished. The research was a *lot* of fun! Please let me know if you see any errors. There's a slight foreshadowing of 11's fashion sense... please forgive, but I couldn't help myself. I hope you enjoy! Can't wait to write more!

**Chapter Six: A Quantum Leap**

"_Eureka! I have found it! _

-Archimedes from his bathtub, having realized the principle of displacement.

Rose's feet stood rooted to the ground as her companions shot around the desk to check on Gwyneth. _A wolf, a sea of gold... _Rose's eyes darted around the room as she searched her mind for meaning. _I've heard those words before._ The world might well have ceased to exist and Rose wouldn't have noticed a thing. _All that ever could be... it's like something out of a dream... _

"... slight bruising on the right side of her scalp," a familiar voice was saying, "but she should be alright. Rose?" She jumped as something - some_one_ - touched her shoulder. Rose's vision came into focus once more, and she saw Fred's concerned face leaning in toward hers. "Rose. Are you alright?"

Rose brought a hand to her forehead and nodded, blinking a few times to clear her head. "Yeah," she assured him. "Yeah, m'fine." Her eyes shifted to the desk, and abruptly she remembered Gwyneth's collapse. She rushed over to find Gwyneth stretched out on her back, head resting on Fred's bundled jacket. She went immediately to her knees, brushing a few stray hairs clear of the woman's immobile face. Gwyneth's eyes were closed, but she was breathing.

Fred came kneel beside Rose. "She's going to be fine," he told her. "Right as houses, soon as she wakes. Apparently what goes in that unfathomable mind of yours was enough to render her unconscious. Not many could pull that off - apart from yours truly, of course." He paused to wait for her reaction, and went on in gentler tones when she gave none: "It wasn't your fault, Rose. You couldn't have anticipated that kind of reaction."

Rose nodded soberly. "I know. But- what does it mean?" She turned to face him, trying to keep the fear out of her expression, "First that mad dream, now this? And back when we first met Gwyneth with Mr. Dickens, she had the same kind of reaction - kept goin' on about a big bad wolf. I can't help but think it's some kind of warning."

Fred broke their gaze to squint at the lights above them. "It might be. Then again, it might not." He brought his eyes back to rest on hers, a quiet and contemplative expression on his face. "Best not leap to conclusions when it comes to dreams of any kind - asleep or awake." He paused in consideration, and seemed to come to a decision. "Rose," he began slowly, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you since last night-"

At the sound of footsteps, Rose turned to see her father approaching with an elderly man. Fred sighed. "Hold that thought," he told her as they both rose to their feet.

Dr. Bartholomeus Nielsen - or Bartho - was a wiry old gentleman, bespectacled eyes glittering with intelligence as he surveyed his visitors. He wore a white lab coat over pressed grey trousers, and a perfectly centered argyle bow tie lay against his throat. His upper lip bore a white mustache, with a fringe of white hair encircling his head like a shining silver crown. Although Fred stood nearly a head taller, Bartho appeared to take him in from an equal height.

The prominent smile lines rimming his eyes crinkled up into a smile as he held a hand out to Fred, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Dr. Nielsen, but everyone here calls me Bartho." Fred took the proffered hand to give it a firm shake.

"A pleasure to meet you, Bartho," he said, returning the smile. "I'm Dr. Noble, but please call me Fred."

Bartho nodded his head in a small bow. "A pleasure indeed, Dr. Noble. Or _Fred_, I should say," he corrected himself with a chuckle.

"Actually," Fred began to explain, "the full name I took is Wilfred Nob-"

"I'm sorry to cut you off, Fred," Pete interrupted him with scathing glance, "but it will have to wait for another time. Bartho, you were going to show us what you've found?"

Rose glanced over to check on Gwyneth, and frowned at finding Fred's jacket by itself on the bare floor. Fred appeared to have made the same discovery. "Pete," he turned to ask, "where's Gwyneth?"

Pete noted the disappearance and nodded to himself. "I placed a call to the infirmary as soon as she collapsed," he explained. "With all the bizarre experiments going on around here, each of our medics are equipped with emergency bypass keys for the lifts. It doubles the speed and skips any intermittent floor requests."

"Don't they get nauseous?" Fred asked speculatively.

Pete nodded, expression grim. "They've been hitting the Dramamine. Hard. We've been trying to figure out another way to keep them from getting sick. The local drug store is making a killing off this."

"Is that so?" Fred inquired with mock innocence. "The mighty TORCHWOOD institute, incapable of replicating a basic anti-nausea medication? Still, it shouldn't take long to come up with a suitable formula." He nodded his head, folding his hands behind his back. "And yet I wonder," he mused to himself, tapping a finger against his lips. "How do you think the people would react if you stopped manufacturing - hypothetically speaking, of course - if you weren't able to produce, say, alien-based weaponry and defense systems? I wonder..." Fred raised his eyebrows at Pete and went on: "Shut down, perhaps? And there's always the possibility of being taken over by a less than benign corporate executive." His tone darkened as he tilted up his chin to look down upon his companions.

"Fickle friend, power. Can't predict where - or when - it's going to shift. It begs the question... who can you depend on?" Fred shoved his hands in his pockets and began to circle Pete, Bartho and Rose. "When things get rough - and they will in time; I'd know, time is my domain- _when_ they get rough, who will you turn to? And upon deciding whom, if there is _any_ questioning their motive," Fred stopped beside Pete, bouncing lightly on his heels as he lowered his voice to a gravelly purr, "welllll, that's when you'll need to make a choice. Protect the world? Or protect yourself?" Pete's jaw worked in an effort to find the words to defend himself.

Sensing the growing tension in the group, Rose decided to step in: "Stop acting so superior," Rose scolded Fred. "Bartho, you had something to show us?" Ignoring Fred's expression of disapproval, Rose turned to look questioningly at Bartho.

"Yes, Rose," said Bartho with a slight bow. "If you would all follow me," he gestured with a hand and led them toward the stairwell.

Five flights later, all four emerged through the double-doors. Fred leaned back against the door frame, panting slightly as he wiped at the faint sheen of perspiration on his brow. Pete and Bartho kept walking, each lost in their own thoughts. Rose turned when she felt Fred's absence, quickly retracing her steps to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You alright?" she asked, trying to keep any nervous edge from her voice.

Fred nodded, then reached up to clutch at his head, shutting his eyes with a hissed intake of breath through his teeth. "Not a good idea, moving my head like that," he muttered.

Rose tightened her grip on his shoulder, laying the other hand against his forehead: "You don't feel feverish," she told him. "Could be you're just dehydrated. Did you have any of those energy bars?"

"Had one," he said, tilting his head up to rest it against the whitewashed wall. His breathing was shallow and labored, and she felt residual condensation between her fingers. "Haven't had much to drink though," he admitted.

"Here," she told him, grabbing hold of his hand, "water fountain's just round the corner." Fred swallowed and allowed her to lead him away from the stairwell. "Serve you right, anyway," Rose added in reproach. "Takin' the piss out o' my Dad like that. He's done nothing but help you, hasn't he? Funny way you've got o' thankin' him."

"Oi," Fred muttered at her back, "don't get your knickers in a twist." Rose turned on her heel to stare at him, eyes open wide as she took him in from toes to nose.

"Say that again?" she prompted him, considerable heat in her voice. Fred looked confused for a second, then clapped a hand over his mouth, his face an expression of shock.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed. "Donna!" He slapped his hand to his forehead and instantly winced in pain. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, it's Donna, she's still in my head, thinking and reacting and feeling..." His eyes widened before adding in self-observation, "blimey, I thought _I_ was rude..."

"You _are_ rude," Rose reprimanded him, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. "Well," she continued, "next time I see her, remind me to teach her some manners, yeah?"

Fred swallowed and barely caught himself before he nodded again. "Right," he agreed. "Next time you see her. Ah, there's the tap!" Without another word, Rose watched him lean over to drink from the fountain. He stood there for what seemed like a full ten minutes before standing upright.

"I feel very full just now," he told Rose, frowning slightly as he placed his hands over his stomach. She shook her head ruefully at him. "There's such a thing as moderation, Fred. Give it about twenty minutes, then you'll use the loo and feel right as rainwater," she assured him, taking his hand to lead him to Pete and Bartho.

Bartho's laboratory was about the same size and shape of an enormous walk-in closet. The walls were covered in counters and cupboards on all sides, with beakers and Bunsen burners scattered hither and thither. An island table covered in a hard, stony substance dominated the center of the room. Lamps hung from the ceiling to illuminate various flasks, microscopes and other laboratory equipment whose uses Rose had yet to discover. Bartho was speaking animatedly to Pete, gesturing toward a computer monitor set upon the edge of the island table.

Fred glanced around as they entered the lab, hands in his pockets, evaluating his surroundings with a critical eye. Rose followed in his wake, making her way toward Bartho and her father. Bartho turned away from Pete to greet the newcomers with a warm smile.

"Welcome to my humble laboratory, Fred, Rose," said Bartho, "though of course you've been here before," he nodded to Rose. "Please, pull up a stool and make yourselves at home. Or perhaps you'll find it more comfortable to stand," he remedied, as Fred came to stand beside Pete, resting a hand on the table to lean in toward the monitor. Rose stood between Bartho and Fred, turning to smile ressuringly at her father. Thankfully, he smiled in return. Either he had already forgotton Fred's terse warning, or he'd moved past it.

The screen reflected itself upon Bartho's wire-rimmed spectacles as he pointed toward a jagged green line on the monitor. The line flew up and down on the screen in the manner of an EKG scan. "Dr. Noble," he began, "what do you make of this?" Fred moved closer to squint at the screen, and pressed a finger against the bridge of his nose to straighten imaginary glasses. The corner of Rose's mouth quirked up in a smile, and Fred turned to raise an eyebrow at her in warning. She pressed her lips together, and both turned their attention back to the monitor.

"I presume we're looking at some sort of magnetic reading?" Fred inquired, and Bartho nodded. "Which means either something in this room is giving off massive radiation, or you're receiving data from a remote transmitter. I'm going to bet on the latter, considering we'd all be reduced to jelly by now with readings on that scale."

"Quite right, Fred," Bartho praised him. "On both accounts. The information we're recieving is from a satelite launched by TORCHWOOD several months ago. It holds within it a cesium vapor magnetometer sensor - we call it the CS-L, or _Cecil_, for short. Instead of getting distracted by all of the electromagnetic noise that's being generated by cell phones, GPS systems and whatnot, our _Cecil_ picks up magnetic field measurements by utilizing techniques found in quantum mechanics."

"I always forget that you lot are just discovering- but wait! _That's_ the connection to the dimension cannon!" Fred exclaimed in the thrill of discovery. "I was wondering when it would get to that. _Rose's_ dimension cannon, was it?" He turned from the screen to wink at her, and Rose's stomach flipped. _Why, _she asked herself, _does he always have to be so gorgeous?_ She found herself smiling in return.

"Indeed it was," Bartho agreed. "What with the stars disappearing without any explanation, she was desparate to find you." All three of them turned to stare at Bartho in shock. "Ah, you thought I wouldn't guess?" He chuckled softly to himself, tapping a finger to his temple. "I may be getting on in years, Doctor, but my mind is clear. I knew it was you as soon you mentioned choosing a name."

Pete scowled at Fred, who shrugged off-handedly as though to say, 'where's the harm?' Bartho shook his head at Pete. "You can trust me, old friend. I will keep your secret. Fear no ulterior motives from me." Turning back to Fred - who was rubbing the back of his neck in mild embarassment- he continued, "Still... I admit to human curiousity. Fred, may I have the honor of listening to your hearts beat?"

Fred regarded him sadly. "Be my guest," he answered, "but I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. The Doctor - Rose's Doctor - is in his own universe. I'm the result of a metacrisis stemming from a displaced hand, some excess regenerative energy, and Donna Noble." Rose's heart sank as she registered the deadened tone of Fred's voice. He looked so hopeless that she couldn't stand it. She opened her mouth and let her reasoning flow before she could stop herself:

"But you're so much more than that!" She spoke fervently, reaching out to hold his hand between hers. "You're part Time Lord, but you're also part human. And that's not a bad thing." Her voice gained confidence as she went on, "It means you'll have more passion for life - if that were even possible! - because yours is goin' to end someday. You _can't_ just regenerate into another body, Fred, but _think_. That might be a blessing in disguise, yeah? Because what happens to you today will matter more- it'll have more meaning to you, because you might not be around to experience it tomorrow."

Fred smiled tightly at her, eyes wide and dark, just like the Doctor on that snowy night at the Powell Estates. He looked like he was trying to hold back tears, but he reached out with his other hand to cover hers, squeezing tightly. "Thank you," he told her, jaw twitching and voice slightly quavering with emotion. He swallowed hard, then widened his eyes to clear them. "Right," he began hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "You wanted to examine me, Bartho?"

Bartho shook his head, a surprising amount of compassion in his eyes towards this man he barely knew. "That won't be necessary, Fred. We have more pressing matters to attend to." He opened his mouth to continue, then paused in hesitation: "There is one thing," he said slowly, apparently changing his mind. He made for a tall cabinet in the corner, removed an item from its contents, and came to stand before Fred.

"Your tie appears to have been through the wars," Bartho said reprovingly. Fred looked down at his chest to discover that his tie was, indeed, in terrible condition. Apparently he'd soaked it in the water fountain until it was mottled from the rusty bottom. "Silk spoils easily. If I may give you one piece of advice, Fred, it is this: cleanliness truly is next to godliness. You are a brand new man - quite literally, as I've recently been informed. Do put your best foot forward. First impressions cannot be given twice."

Fred's eyebrows rose as Bartho held out a long strip of burgundy silk. "Luckily for you I have one in the same color. Take it. You needn't wear it now," he continued as he placed it into Fred's upturned palm. "As a scientist prone to spoiling ties," he went on, "I noted the difference in people's treatment of my work in relation to the state of my clothing. Rather than giving up on my favorite accessory, it occured to me that a bow tie might be more suited to my line of work. I haven't regretted it since."

Pete sighed as Fred loosened his borrowed tie and yanked it off, shoving it haphazardly into a pocket. He delicately rolled the bowtie into an ovoid shape and tucked it carefully into his jacket lining. "Thank you, Bartho," Fred said gravely and with a nod of his head. "Your advice is duly noted. I've always enjoyed bow ties, but never bothered learning how to tie their knots."

Rose chuckled, shaking her head at Fred. "I'll help you out, you daft ape. Sleep-away camp taught me all sorts of useful knots, but bow-ties were the coolest. I'll teach you how to manage it." She smiled cheekily at him with that bit of tongue sticking out from between her teeth.

Pete rolled his eyes. "Mind if I sum things up? Right, so Fred here finds new meaning in his humanity, Bartho is more a neat-freak than I ever imagined, and Rose saves the day because, apparently, bow ties are cool. Am I following?" All three nodded at him. "Good," he stated in tones of exasperation. "Moving on, then. Bartho, you were telling us about _Cecil's_ bizarre readings?"

Self-consciously adjusting his bow tie, Bartho cleared his throat and turned once again to Fred. "Our remote transmitter is located at fifty-one degrees north and three degrees west."

"Off the coast of Penarth," Fred mused. "Not too far from Cardiff, more's the shame. Underwater, then?"

Bartho raised his eyebrows. "Impressive. You have the latitude and longitude of the Earth by heart?"

"How else am I supposed to land on solid ground?" Fred countered. "You've been alluding to something strange in the readings, Bartho. Or is it their sheer magnitude?"

"I'm afraid not." Bartho closed the window containing _Cecil's_ green blips, and opened up a graph filled with triangles of various shapes and sizes. "Utilizing the locations that we know for certainty - _Cecil_, our base, and the satelite sending frequencies to our remote - we've triangulated the data and come up with a possible source of the radiation." He stepped aside from the monitor as Fred leaned in to study the intersecting lines and curves.

Fred's finger traced along the screen, coming to a stop at a large red dot. "Fifty-one degrees north, thirteen degrees west." He blinked and turned toward Bartho. "Straight line west from Cardiff. What did you find?"

Bartho sighed and took his glasses off to rub at his eyes. "We sent a chopper as soon as we received the signal. There is something - the K2 buoy. It's not much, but we've dispached a diving team to see what they can come up with."

"Any word?" asked Fred, crossing his arms across his chest. Rose took in his expression of concentration - deep in the heart of a mystery. The Doctor at what he did best. _One of the things_, she mentally corrected herself. A small smile bloomed on her lips as she watched the dialogue taking place before her.

"We've been receiving updates on the hour," Bartho replied. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Wave tides are higher than normal, but the position of the moon accounts for that. Pressure tendency, water temperature, everything checks out."

Fred frowned at the map once more. "There's something else, something we're missing." His hand reached impulsively toward his coat pocket, and he sighed, letting his arm drop. "What I wouldn't give for a sonic," he muttered to himself. Then he straightened, eyes widening as he came to his full height. "Sonic!" Fred turned to Bartho, "You said you dispatched a team as soon as you started receiving readings?"

Bartho nodded. "Yes. It's standard procedure to investigate any strange happenenings."

"Standard!" Fred proclaimed, "Standardization is for ninnies. By what other means did you register the radiation?"

"_Cecil_ picked up the signal," Bartho began slowly, "and transmitted it to the remote reader. I printed out an original copy, if you want to have a look," and he turned to a pile of papers stacked atop his filing cabinet.

"No, no," Fred interrupted, and Bartho turned around, confusion evident in his posture. "Could you translate the signal to audio?"

"Well, yes, I suppose," Bartho answered in bewilderment. He returned to the computer and quickly typed in a few commands. "This unit wasn't built for sound, Fred, but I'll do my best." Fred nodded impatiently and began to pace around the island table.

A low sound, as from the tantric chant of electronic monks, began to fill the room. The pitch oscillated in waves, growing louder in volume, then softer. Rose opened her mouth to speak, but Fred quickly raised a finger in a hushing gesture. Slightly irritated, Rose complied. She knew better than to interrupt him when he was caught up in a focus.

Fred stood still and shut his eyes in concentration. Pete turned to Rose, raising a questioning eyebrow. Rose shook her head. She trusted him to know what he was doing, even if he wasn't her proper Doctor. Finally, Fred opened his eyes and nodded to Bartho, who gradually muted the signal.

"You said that the tide is higher than usual, Bartho?" Bartho nodded, and Fred began to pace once more, running a hand through his hair to leave it in spikes. "Electromagnetic radiation comes in the form of waves. Waves of sound, waves of frequency, waves of the ocean affected by the moon... If the original signal anticipated the elements found within our atmosphere, then the frequency should remain stable. In which case, old K2 is just having a really bad day." He turned on his heel to stand before Rose. "_If_, however, the signal is coming from another planet - a planet whose atmosphere contained different elements from our own - the original frequency might need to be modified according to the differences."

Pete and Rose frowned in confusion. "Pretend that you've dropped a metal ball. How fast would it fall?" Fred let an imaginary object drop from his hand as he looked pointedly at Rose.

"Quick. That is, if it's fallin' through the air," she added. Fred grinned, "And if not?" he asked, urging her on.

"Well," she reasoned, "if it were dropping through something liquid, like water, it wouldn't reach the bottom as quickly."

"And why not?" Fred grabbed her by the shoulders in his excitement, and she rolled her eyes before responding, "Because there's too much stuff slowin' it down. Water molecules."

"Exactly right! Which brings us back the signal in question. Bartho," he continued, wheeling to face the bemused scientist, "could you replay the frequency and amplify it by - ooh, say fifteen hertz? Thus eliminating any "stuff" that might have been in the way," he added to Rose.

Bartho nodded, and plugged the command into his computer. The resulting sound was higher in pitch, and Fred closed his eyes in recognition. He gestured with a hand for Bartho to reduce the volume, and slowly opened his eyes to face Rose once more. "Do you recognize it?" The words were so soft that she could barely make them out with the ringing in her ears.

"I think so," she replied slowly. "I know I've heard somethin' like it before... only it was voices, wasn't it?"

The corners of Fred's mouth dimpled in a half-smile. "Yes. It was voices." He strode toward the computer, pausing to look at Bartho. "May I?" Bartho nodded his assent, and Fred began typing various commands, visibly adding additional coordinates to the graph. As he typed "enter," the red dot had moved to a different position.

Turning to face the others, Fred began to explain: "When you played the audio signal, I was able to slow down the frequency in my head in order to trigger recognition. Having verified that it wasn't my human imagination playing tricks on me, I recalled the origin and plugged it into your triangulation sequence. The signal is eminating from another planet."

Pete's eyebrows rose, but neither Bartho nor Rose seemed surprised. "It's a dwarf planet, to be specific, caught up in the gravity of a gas giant - not unlike your Saturn and its moons. Causality dictates that the properties within the dwarf planet's atmosphere must be able to withstand the massive forces of gravity from its neighbor. Taking into account these additional elements, as well the tug of Earth's moon, I calculated the difference of the speed at which sound would travel. " Fred tapped once again at monitor's readings.

"Luckily for us, they seem to have anticipated the Earth's lack of - well, _stuff_ - that would interfere with their song. All I needed to do was factor in their own differences, and Presto! New coordinates, fifty-one degrees north and thirty degrees east of the K2 buoy." He beamed at them, grinning like a child on his birthday. Rose smiled back, while Pete seemed lost.

"But-" Bartho sputtered, "_how_? How did you even know which planet to begin with?" He demanded, gesturing toward the monitor.

"Ooh, I've been around, Dr. Nielsen," Fred told him matter-of-factly. "And lucky for you, I've got an _excellent_ memory. Didn't Rose tell you? I'm brilliant!" He bounced on his heels and stretched out his arms, rolling his head along his neck with a few loud cracks. "Couldn't have done it without me. In fact," he went on, "I'm willing to bet that message was meant for me from the get-go. I'm one of few in the galaxy that would recognize their song. Somehow, they knew I would be here to discipher it..." Fred frowned, eyeing up the screen as though it were hiding something from him.

"Wait-" Rose interrupted, "a song? You mean the Ood again, don't you? With the squiddy-"

"And tentacly faces and all that, yes, Rose," Fred nodded at her, pointing toward the bright red dot on the screen. "Bartho," he continued, "What do you make of these coordinates?"

Bartho nudged at his spectacles with a finger and typed in a few commands. The computer opened another window, this one depecting a topographic map with a red dot and coordinates in the centre.

"My eyes aren't as good as they used to be. Come now, Fred, won't you enlighten us with that brilliant mind of yours?"

"Don't mind if I do! These," Fred pointed at series of grey dots sprinkled among the landscape, "are just a few of the ancient rocks that make up the Avesbury stone circles." He glanced at Rose, head tilted upward as a smile began to dimple his face. "It appears that the spirits are trying to tell us something."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Notes:

This chapter was supposed to be much longer, but as events unfolded, I realized that what happens next should really be a chapter of its own. I'm loving how Rose and Fred seem to exist in and of themselves, and I just sort of follow them along on their journey, writing down what happens. Maybe it seems vaguely crazy, but it's how it is:-) The next chapter will be coming very soon. Sorry this one took so long! So many students, so little time:-/ Thank you for all of the reviews - the support means _so_ much to me:-) (I literally just finished this about a half hour ago, tried to proof it, hopefully did an okay job... apologies for any errors)

**Chapter 7: A Cup of Tea**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_"The Rose herself has got  
Perfume which on earth is not...  
But divine melodious truth;  
Philosophic numbers smooth;  
Tales and golden histories  
Of heaven and its mysteries.  
Thus ye live on high, and then  
On the earth ye live again;  
And the souls ye left behind you  
Teach us, here, the way to find you..."_

-from "Ode," by John Keats

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pete piloted the helicopter into the eastern wind, the regular thump-thud of blades chopping at dense currents as they lifted ever further from the lights of the city below. From the passenger seat, Bartho stared wonderingly into the rush of snowflakes as they tumbled against the windshield. The effect granted the illusion of interspace travel through a planetary crystalline wormhole. Rose and Fred sat behind, occupying the same seats as their homeward-bound journey from Bad Wolf Bay.

A strangled sound interrupted her dazed reverie, and Rose turned from her view of the receding buildings to glance at Fred. His eyes were closed, hands clenched into fists where they rested in his lap. His adam's apple bobbed as he appeared to swallow with some difficulty.

"Fred," Rose began, alarmed, "what's wrong?" He turned to face her, eyes wide with confusion.

"I... " he swallowed again, "I'm not sure. My heart rate seems to have skyrocketed-" Fred gulped thirstily at the air, raising a hand to press it against his forehead. "Head's killing me," he added in a barely audible whisper.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she implored him. trying to keep a rising panic from her voice. All previous doubts regarding Fred's physical health began to resurface, and she struggled to keep rising panic from her voice. _Hang about_, she interrupted her anxious thoughts. _Panic could be the key!_ Finally coming to understand - or so she hoped - the key to his body's increasingly disturbing behavior, Rose went on in calmer tones:

"Just try and slow your breathing, alright? I think I might know what it is. Just focus on my voice. Everything's gonna get better soon." She paused as his eyes locked onto hers as to a lifeline. "You're scared, Fred. Like something terrible's going to happen and you don't think you can stop it, yeah? " Fred nodded slowly and closed his eyes, visibly attempting to calm himself by breathing through his nose. Rose nodded in encouragement, though she knew he couldn't see her. "It sounds like a panic attack. I used to get them just after we got separated." She reached out to hold his trembling hands between hers, noting how cold they felt. He took another breath and faced her once more.

"Makes sense," he agreed through chattering teeth. "Being human isn't all just fish 'n chips, is it?" He smiled tightly in a desperate effort for levity, exhaling softly through his nose. "The crazy thing is - well, this is similar to how I feel when I'm about to regenerate - only I couldn't even had I wanted to. Something's in the way. As if I were somehow frozen in time." Fred's eyes met hers, and she shuddered inwardly at the pain and fear revealed in their depths.

"It's probably just the Time Lord in you, not knowing how to react to all these new human feelings. Maybe your body is just overwhelmed, yeah? Like it doesn't know where to put everything." Rose kept her voice smooth. She wanted more than anything to comfort him, to show him that everything was going be okay.

"Rose." Fred's voice was far too tenuous for comfort, and she reached out to squeeze his shoulder in an attempt to grant him strength. "I didn't get to tell you last night..." He inhaled harshly through his nose and briefly closed his eyes. "The changes in this body are more numerous than I imagined, even after our minds merged. Tried to tell you earlier..." He leaned his head back against the cushioned seat back, appearing to gather himself before he turned to face her once more. Rose nearly flinched at the unfettered emotion in his eyes, yet forced herself to hold his torrid gaze. She needed to remain steadfast for him - perhaps now more than ever.

"Promise me you'll not hold it against him," he pleaded hoarsely.

"What? Against who?" Rose's brow furrowed in confusion, and she instantly regretted questioning him when he grimaced against evident pain. "I promise, Fred, I promise," words tumbling over each other in her eagerness to reassure him.

Fred closed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you," he said softly, lowering his chin as he slumped forward in the seat. After a moment, he lifted his head once more and turned to look at her, eyebrows arching as his expression became profound.

"Rose." He leaned toward her as he uttered her name like a caress, and she felt tell-tale tingles trickling down her spine at his tone of voice. "He - the Doctor... he had to let her go. I had suspicions from the beginning, but they were confirmed to me this afternoon. The way I'm feeling. It all adds up, and it isn't fair, Rose." Fred turned softly kiss her hand, still holding onto his shoulder.

"Donna Noble's human mind - no matter how brilliant - wouldn't have been able to support all the knowledge it came to hold in the wake of our metacrisis." Fred blinked slowly before he went on: "He would have had to wipe her memory to keep her alive, and he'll have entrusted her to Wilfred. She'd have burned otherwise, and he wouldn't have allowed it to happen."

Rose stared through Fred and into empty space. "You mean," she began hesitantly. Her eyes brought him into focus once more, beginning to shine at the edges as she fought to understand what he was trying to tell her. "So - so he's alone? The Doctor's alone? He's by himself?" And her voice broke as she added, "again?"

Fred nodded, his own panic apparently half-forgotton as he reached out to touch her cheek. "I'm sorry. Rose, I'm so sorry, but it was the only was she could have survived."

Rose's lips twitched, and she swallowed hard against the tears. "You said you found this out today? I don't understand. Do you two still have some kind of mental connection?"

"No," he stated firmly, setting his jaw as he stroked her cheek with a gentle thumb. "I thought I understood who and what I am on the day I was born, but I didn't. I still don't know the half of it." He paused, and her heart ached at his pained expression. " A whole lifetime with you, Rose," and Fred shook his head in awe of the very thought. "But-"

Rose cut him off with two fingers to his lips. "No," she stated emphatically, and glanced toward the cockpit. Her father and Bartho appeared to remain oblivious to their intense conversation, and she continued in a hushed affirmation: "You've got his body, and it's suffering more than I can imagine from your first anxiety attack. But Fred, that's to be expected. Its like going into shock after everything you've been through in the past few days."

"Rose," Fred grated. "_Listen_ to me-"

"Tea!" she interrupted desparately. "Remember? When you came 'round the first time, it was after Mum gave you some tea. Somethin' about tannins?" Rose knew she was grasping at straws, but her mind was incapable of accepting any further loss.

A small muscle worked in Fred's jaw as he regarded her for a long moment. Finally, he blinked with a small nod in assent. "Little shop," he muttered. "Touristy attractions always have a little shop. I might need some help getting in, but you can get me some tea. Mind you," he continued in afterthought, "I might need it injected intravenously. My brain might have turned to mush by then," and somehow he found the strength to wink at her.

Rose fought against the guilt and love warring inside her mind and heart, and mustered enough strength in turn to smile reassuringly at him. "That's more like it. Just remember to breathe, and you'll be fine. We'll get through this together, you and me." She reached out to hold his hand once more, caressing a knuckle with her thumb. Fred's eyes fluttered shut, and he squeezed her hand in response. "Just breathe," she repeated, but wasn't sure if the words were meant to comfort Fred, or herself.

They passed the rest of the flight in relative silence. Bartho turned to Pete with the occasional inaudible comment, but Rose's mind was far too occupied with Fred's current predicament to pay much attention. Her stomach jolted as the helicopter began its descent, and she could just barely make out the vague shapes of grey stone megaliths among the dense flow of frozen precipitation.

Fred's hand clung to hers as Pete landed the chopper within thirty yards of a dated stone cottage. The blades' steady rhythm slowed to a halt, and Rose unbuckled her restraint, crouching over Fred's pale form to do the same for him. She slung his arm across her shoulders while Pete opened the door for them. At Rose's insistent gesture, he grabbed Fred's other arm and half-carried him out of the cabin.

"What happened?" he demanded as Fred coughed weakly, remaining limp in their arms. With one look at the trailing feet of his new friend, Bartho rushed forward to open the door of the cottage. Light within beckoned to them, and candles glowed invitingly from their places among the cottage windows.

"Anxiety attack," Rose responded shortly as they crossed the threshold into the gift shop. "Too much at once for his body to cope with." _It makes sense,_ she insisted to herself.

Bartho had cleared a niche beside some bookshelves, and they carefully lowered Fred into a padded armchair. His breathing was shallow, his face pale and eyelids half-shut. Rose firmed her mouth and headed toward the cashier's counter. A wiry old woman with long silvery hair sat perched upon a stool, her nose buried in a book.

"Do you have any tea?" Rose asked breathlessly. The woman's owlish eyes rose to regarded her, blinking a few times before responding in a creaky voice: "Not for sale. Too many valuables in the shop, my dear. Can't have tourists staining our inventory, can we?" She returned her attention to the book.

"Please," Rose entreated once more, her desperation audible. The cashier raised her eyes to stare at her. "It's my friend. He's sick, and I know it sounds crazy, but all he needs is a cuppa. I'll pay whatever you like," she added hopefully.

The elderly woman looked blankly at Rose for a few long seconds, then stood to place her book on the counter. "As it happens, we do have a few selections in the back. Any particular variety?"

Rose nearly shed tears of relief. "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! Erm, Earl Gray should do the trick." The woman nodded and made her way to a curtain, drawing it back to prepare tea for her guests. Rose turned on a heel and hastily returned to Fred's tiny alcove.

Pete was restlessly paging through a brochure, and Bartho stood staring out a window directly behind Fred's prone form. Rose bent down and kissed him on the brow, then gasped in alarm. Bartho started and turned around. "Did she have any?" he inquired anxiously.

Rose slowly shook her head from side to side. "Cashier's gettin' it now," she muttered, placing a hand against Fred's forehead and frowning at the result. "Bartho, could you feel his head for me? My hands are too cold to judge." She held her breath as Bartho placed his palm against Fred's forehead, and nearly lost her composure when his face turned from anxious to grave.

"Whatever it is that he needs," Bartho began, "see that he gets it soon. With such a fever, it won't be long until his mind begins to suffer irreparable damage." Rose bit down on her lower lip and sped toward the front desk just as the cashier emerged with mug of piping hot tea.

"Thank you, oh my God, thank you," Rose intoned, reaching into a pocket to throw several quid onto the counter before grabbing the tea and sprinting back to Fred. Pete reached out to squeeze her shoulder in a gesture of support, and Rose tried to smile at him, but had to stop herself before it turned into a grimace. She needed to stay strong. For all of them.

Rose placed the steaming mug beneath Fred's nose, and smiled as his eyelids lifted heavily. He made a small sound in his throat, and she took a sip of the tea to make sure it wasn't too hot. She swallowed painfully, having been rewarded with a burnt tongue for her trouble. Placing the mug carefully on the ground, she ran outside, scooped up a handful of snow, and returned to dump it unceremoniously into the tea. With another sip, she judged it suitable enough for Fred's heightened senses.

Rose placed the mug delicately against his lips, and they cracked open enough for the tea to slip between them. He swallowed convulsively, coughing a couple of times before sipping more of the fluid. She ran a hand through his hair, traced her fingers along the stubble of his jaw. Rose said a little prayer as she continued to feed him the tea. _Please,_ she thought fiercely, please _don't let him die. He's gone through so much. I don't know if I could live with it. Please._

Maybe due to the tea, or perhaps in answer to her prayer, Fred's eyes began to clear. His face regained some of its color as he drained the mug of its contents. Rose touched his forehead, but although he looked much better than before, the surface was still very hot. "Fred?" she asked tentatively, putting her hand over his where it lay on the armrest.

"Still here," he whispered as he focused on her. "Can't get of me." Rose broke into a brilliant smile and squeezed his hand tighter. "Like a bad penny," he continued as his voice gained strength. "I always turn up."

"'Smore like it," Rose agreed, struggling to keep tears from her eyes. "How's your strength?"

"Oh, I'll be fine in no time," he assured her. "Well - not _no_ time, that would result in all sorts of interstitial paradox. Soon, rather. Give me a few momentss." He reached up to scrub at his eyes, and stopped abruptly as he seemed to recall the reasoning behind their surroundings. "Any evidence of the transmission?"

Pete, Rose and Bartho glanced at one another, each shaking their head in negation. "Didn't happen to bring that receiver, did you, Bartho?" Fred looked up at him hopefully.

"No," he began, and Fred's face fell in disappointment. "It was far too bulky for the trip. I brought our chronon sensor instead."

Fred's face contorted in confusion. "_Chronon_ sensor? Where did you find the technology?" he demanded.

"Need to know basis," Pete interrupted. Rose cut a scathing look at her father, and continued for him: "We needed chronon sensors in order to build the dimension cannon, and retrieved them from the TARDIS in the alternative reality that built itself around Donna. The one where you died." She frowned in remembrance, and Fred nodded with understanding.

"The rift between worlds had reopened, Rose. I'm glad you did it. If you hadn't, we might all have perished from Davros' plot. Each and every universe has you to thank. Even I've never pulled off a stunt like that." He grinned proudly, and Rose breathed easier at the familiar sparkle in his eye. "Rose Tyler. Defender of the Earth - in all her permutations."

Bartho had brought the chronon sensor from its place in his jacket pocket. It was a small, oblong device seemingly made from stone, with a tiny circular dial in the center. Two lines moved erratically among various numbers and symbols, for all the world like the face of a clock. Fred reached a hand out to Bartho, who placed the sensor upon his open palm.

Fred brought it reverently to his chest. "Is this-" he began. Then: "No! I know what it is... a lodestone, with TARDIS coral at the heart. How did you..." he trailed off in a whisper. For once, Fred appeared to be lost for words.

"Bartho showed me the books to read," Rose responded, eyes on the ground as she shifted in slight embarrasment. "We worked together. Took a bit of the TARDIS that had fallen off when we were trying to get through to Donna. Lucky for us, the coral remained even as the other reality collapsed. The TARDIS was dyin', and wanted to help." She looked up at him, pleading silently for him to understand.

Fred squeezed her hand in response. "Of course she would," he told her soothingly. "It feels wonderful having a bit of her near me again. Might be another part of the reason I recovered. Wouldn't be surprised, at any rate," he added lightly.

Rose stood rapidly as Fred leaned forward on his knees and rose precariously to his feet. She reached an arm around his back to support him, but none of his weight settled on her. He cradled the chronon sensor in his left hand, and brought his right arm round to hold Rose against him. "I'll have to get sick more often, if that's what it takes to get you to put your arms around me," he teased.

She narrowed her eyes and let go, feeling heat rise into her cheeks despite any mental effort to stop it. He stumbled and caught himself on a nearby bookshelf. Rose looked blankly at him. "Playing sick, are we? Think you can take advantage with a faint and a whimper?" Her lips quirked in a smile as she reached out to take hold of his right arm. "Just don't expect me to swoon, yeah?"

Fred rolled his eyes, then shut them against the ensuing dizziness. "Humans," he muttered under his breath. Rose held onto his arm as they made their way out of the shop. The snow was finally beginning to let up, and tiny flakes carried by the wind sought out the gaps in their clothing, Shivering with the cold, Pete and Bartho followed behind as Fred kept his eye on the chronon reader.

They headed in the direction dictated by dial's tiny arms, and soon found themselves surrounded by oddly shaped stones. Some were the height of a man - many loomed above them, while others squatted on the ground like primeval stone toads. Rose leaned into Fred as they made their way among the megalithic structures. Occasionally the snow would lull enough for her to recognize the circular layout of the stones. The scene was beautifully anachronistic, eerie in its ancient mystery. She wondered what sort of message would have chosen this site to reveal itself.

Fred began speaking to her in a low voice. "You've probably heard or read somewhere that the Avebury stones were home to occult rituals, druidic rites, marking the passing of seasons, years, generations. If I were my other self, I'd take you out for a spin and show you what really happened. With things as they are, let's just say that in this case, rumor doesn't lie so far off the mark."

The wind began to pick up as the chronon sensor led them on, its needle pointing steadily toward one particular number. Rose shivered. Fred reached up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to hold her closer. She let go his arm and mirrored his motion, and they pressed against one another for warmth against the bitingly cold air.

"The Ood chose this spot for a reason," he continued. His breath felt warm against her ear as he aimed the words toward her, and Rose felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. _Really, Rose!_ she chided herself. "Revelatory rituals aside, there must be something in the megalithic configuration that's drawing them here. The structure relies heavily on rings. Two inner circles, side by side within a larger one. Some mathmaticians have stipulated that the adjacent circles are in fact a _lemniscate_ - the figure-eight symbol for infinity. Others have hypothesized that the stones are a predecessor to the Large Hadron Collidor beneath the border of France and Switzerland."

"Yeah, I read about that," she agreed. "But what do you think, Fred?"

"Oh, all sorts of things," he sighed. "Therein may lie the heart of the problem." Fred paused mid-stride and tinkered with the sensor dial. Nodding to himself, he tugged at Rose and they resumed their strides in a northernly direction. "The LHC employs two large tubes, one surrounding the other. I've the feeling that Avebury might do with electromagmetic radiation what the LHC achieves with elementary particles. The waves are aimed at one particular stone, which in turn passes the radiation onto the next, and so on until the message is conveyed at the final junction. Somewhat like Egyptian mirrors."

"And we're headed toward that message, yeah?" Fred nodded, so Rose went on: "I hope we get there soon, or my ears might be too numb to hear anything."

As though in response to her misgivings, the tiny arms began to spin in rapid circles. Rose looked up from the sensor to see two particularly large megaliths looming before them. One was wide and roughly trapezoidal, while the other - more rectangular and thin - leaned slightly to the side. Fred and Rose stopped in their tracks as the dial continued to go mad. Pete and Bartho caught up with them, and she heard Bartho mutter something to himself.

"Bartho?" Rose called out against the rush of wind. "You recognize this place?"

"The cove," he answered. "The tallest sarsen stones in the whole henge. There used to be a third, but it disappeared long ago. These two represent the male and female. They're set to align with the rising of the moon at its northern-most point."

"I didn't realize you were a historian as well as a scientist," stated Pete, audibly impressed.

"Historian, scientist, artist, gardener, philosopher," Bartho listed vaguely. "I'm not bragging, Pete, kindly don't look at me that way. There's nothing wrong with a love of learning, and specialization is only for the complacent."

"I'd offer my support in ordinary circumstances," Fred interrupted. "But right now I need for the two of you to keep quiet." Bartho obliged, and Pete silently crossed his arms as he came to stand on the other side of Rose.

A vague hum was starting fill the windy space around them. Rose reached out and tentatively laid her hand to surface of the trapezoidal stone. It vibrated beneath her fingers, and she gestured for Fred to do the same with the tilted megalith. As soon as he made contact, the distant hum rose in pitch. The delicate strains of a haunting melody emerged as though from the stone itself, and Rose locked eyes with Fred in amazement. His face slowly transformed into a wide smile of discovery, and she felt herself mirroring his expression. Pete and Bartho stood to the side, wide-eyed and slack jawed as tiny tendrils of light began to form between the two stones.

The miniscule particles began to swirl, multiplying and stretching outward and upward. Faster and faster they spun, and ever so intricately, a diaphanous humanoid form came into being. Arms, torso and legs were revealed. Two hands, one raised to its chest to clutch at a glowing white sphere. Photons coiled along the figure's face until many tentacles emerged, as of a wizened beard. A dark blue suit began to manifest itself, the greek letter sigma inscribed upon a lapel.

Ood Sigma stood glowing before them. "Do not release the stone," he warned.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Notes:

The title of this chapter is probably best translated to "parallel mirrors," and was taken from a piece for 'cello and piano by Arvo Part. It's exquisite. The quote from the beginning is from a song by Mumford and Sons. I don't usually do contemporary lyric quotes, but these seemed appropriate. Please enjoy this chapter.. I cried my eyes out as I wrote the ending. Next chapter coming asap!

**Chapter 8: Spiegel im Spiegel**

"_This is not the end.  
Live unbruised, we are friends.  
And I'm sorry,  
I'm sorry.  
Sigh no more, no more,  
One foot in sea and one on shore...  
And you know me.  
Love - It will not betray you,  
Dismay or enslave you; it will set you free.  
Be more like the man you were made to be.  
There is a design, an alignment, a cry  
Of my heart to see..."_

-from "Sigh no More," by Mumford and Sons.  
(paraphrased from "Much Ado About Nothing,  
by William Shakespeare)

"Ood Sigma," Fred greeted charismatically. "A pleasure to see you, as always!" The Ood blinked at him, cocking his head slightly to the side as Fred continued. "And what brings you here on this chill winter's night?"

"Do not release the stone," the Ood repeated, his tone matter-of-fact. Rose pressed her hand firmly against the trapezoidal megalith, giving a brief nod to Fred before he turned again to their visitor.

"So you said," Fred answered slowly. "Why not? DNA recognition through radio transmission? And assuming that you're really here and not just a recording, how did you manage it?"

"These two stones have been calibrated to resonate with your particular frequencies. My substance is made of light, but I can assure you that my image is being projected in real time." Ood Sigma closed his eyes, and photons flickered to reveal a circle of his kindred, hands joined as they surrounded the Ood in question. Rose blinked, and they were gone.

"The circle of elders have amplified their focus to send me across the veil," he stated. "A dissonance grows within the music of the spheres, Doctor-Donna. We see more than ever before, nor ever will again."

"Why do you call me that? The Doctor-Donna," Fred inquired in worried tones. "I have my own reasoning, but I would love to hear yours."

Ood Sigma straightened his head. "Because that is who you are," he answered simply. "The Doctor and Donna Noble."

"I'll grant she's still kicking around in my head, but what about Donna herself?" Fred countered. "Isn't she the Doctor-Donna as well?"

"For a time. All songs must come to an end. Yours is only beginning." Rose caught her breath as tentacles jiggled, and the Ood's eyes tilted inward. Was he smiling at them? _Will wonders never cease?_ she mused.

Fred seemed to consider this for a moment. "Why are you here?" he asked suspiciously. Ood Sigma turned to regard Rose, who grew more uncomfortable as she came to realize that he was expecting her to say something.

"What?" she asked in confusion. The Ood blinked at her and raised his translation sphere.

"I am here because you wished it," he replied. Rose stared without seeing, and caught movement to the side as Fred turned quickly to face her. Her mouth worked as she struggled to find words.

"I don't understand," she began hesitantly. "How could I have? We've never even met." Fred's eyebrows drew down as he studied her intently.

"You visited the Elder of the Ood in his dream." Ood Sigma tilted his head and continued in his average voice: "His eyes glowed with the light of a thousand suns, and the force of your howl causes him to think of nothing but delivering your message, Rose Tyler."

"My... my howl?" Rose's terrified whisper was accented by a gentle puff of steam from between her lips. She leaned back against the stone as her heart hammered within her chest, pulse ringing in her ears. Fred's troubled eyes held hers for a moment before tearing them away to face the Ood.

"Is that why you're here?" he demanded. "To deliver a message from the Bad Wolf?"

"But Fred," she interjected, "I've never even seen him before now, so how could - "

Rose stifled her protest as Fred held up his hand. She bit her lip in frustration, but held her tongue. Raising her head to face the Ood once more, Rose caught her breath and hit her head in a desperate attempt to press herself further into the rock.

Ood Sigma's eyes had gone red. Before she could turn to Fred, the Ood spoke to them in a voice she didn't recognize - a voice of nightmares, grating with the stench of death and static:

_"Silence will fall,"_ it rasped.

Fred slid as far away from megalith as he could while remaining in contact, and reached out to grab Rose's hand. She squeezed his fingers desperately, swallowing dryly while she gathered her courage. Just when she was about to speak, Ood Sigma's features cleared once more. He tapped the translation sphere and held it to his ear.

"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "Our transmission is prone to interference - we've never reached this far before." At their uneasy nods, he continued, "The wolf bade us deliver its message. Do you wish for me to go on?"

Rose turned to Fred. Trepidation built in her chest and throat, and she could see it reflected in his eyes. His hair was driven in a hundred different directions by the wind, his lips set in a firm line. They turned as one to the messenger:

"Yes," she answered, while Fred nodded.

"Very well," he concluded, nodding obliquely at their anxious expressions. "The past and the present are happening now. The Doctor isolates himself from events as he begins to unravel. He confuses altruism with insolance. His balance is lost, and he is as yet ill-prepared for what is to come. There is nothing in his universe that may restore him."

Rose pressed her lips together, the vague nausea of fear manifesting in the pit of her stomach.

And _insolent_? Her Doctor was many things, but never insolent. Not when it came to things that were important. She glanced at Fred out of the corner of her eye, and he appeared lost in thought.

"The Doctor's universe remains in danger without you, Doctor-Donna." Ood Sigma straightened his head as he appealed to Fred, "and you remain in danger without the Doctor's universe. All songs need balance. Your touch with humanity is what the Doctor needs. The Doctor's physiology is what you need."

"But you're not making sense!" cried Rose. "The Doctor is a Time Lord." Ood Sigma blinked at Fred, cocking his head to the side in expectation. "Tell him, Fred," she pleaded, squeezing his hand as she turned to face him.

Fred stared down at his feet, working the small muscle in his jaw. "Fred?" she repeated. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly before looking up to face her.

"My father was born on Gallifrey, but my mother was as human as you are," he admitted.

"But- but you're a Time Lord! You've always looked down on humans." The wheels in her head turned round until she erupted: "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"It never came up!" he retorted, bracing himself for a full-armed slap. Sure enough, Rose sent him reeling against the stone as she thumped his right shoulder. "Ow!"

"You _ass!_" she yelled, " and all these years we've known each other! You know everything there is to know about my family, and it takes a - an _Ood_ to tell me about your mother!" She looked up to the sky in frustration. _Damn the man,_ she grumbled to herself. Rose forced herself to control her breathing as she looked across at Ood Sigma.

"What else did I say?" she demanded. "Wait no, don't tell me - he married an ape? Because that would _really_ make my day!" She heard Fred make a wounded sound, and rounded to point her finger at him. "Not one word," she warned him, and turned again to the Ood.

"His body is a cage, Rose Tyler. You are the key. The Doctor-Donna must return to his own reality, or else risk death. He is needed here. The Doctor will journey through the Void. His song comes to an end, and begins anew in your world." Ood Sigma paused to blink at them in benign curiosity.

"How?" Fred asked softly. Rose reached out to hold his hand at the audible doubt in his voice.

"By tearing the fabric of reality itself. You are the dissonance in the song - the cause and the effect." The Ood's voice was so matter-of-fact that Rose wanted to reach out and strangle him. Instead, she turned to question Fred:

"Is this making any sense to you?" she asked desperately. He didn't respond, only gazed up at the stars above as though pleading for answers. With a sigh, Fred brought his gaze to the messenger before them.

"None of this is pre-ordained," he stated firmly. "Cause and effect are subject the decisions we make. What happens if I choose to doubt your message? You heard Rose - she claims no part in this."

The Ood closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head as if to commune with his brethren. "We do not know," he finally answered, opening his eyes to blink at them. "We cannot see. All of time and space have been revealed to us, yet we are unable to answer. A veil lay across this course of action. The only certainty is your eminant death, and the death of the Doctor, should you choose to remain."

Fred leaned his head back against the stone, turning slightly to face Rose. "Puts things in perspective, doesn't it?" he asked her wryly. Rose gave him a watery smile, wishing she could put up such a brave front.

"There is more," continued Ood Sigma. "If you decide to leave this world behind, Doctor-Donna, you must go immediately to the planet Allosophieron. Seek out Professor River Song. She alone will be able to give you what you need."

Fred's hand suddenly squeezed hers to the point of pain, and she reached out to steady him as he lost his balance. "River," he breathed in shock.

"You know her?" she asked him worriedly. He reached out to support himself, and came to abrupt halt as his fingers made contact with rock. Their eyes met for a split second before spinning to face the Ood.

Flurries made their way along the whispering path of wind, swirling around the four human figures standing still as stone. The ancient megaliths surrounded them ominously, all the more menacing as daylight faded. Untouched snow blanketed the ground where the Ood had stood.

They had lost contact. Fred abruptly covered his head with his hands, collapsing to his knees beside her.

"Fred!" she gasped, coming to kneel before him. Rose reached out to touch him, and pulled her hand away as though burned. She looked up as Bartho and Fred ran to their side. "He's burning up!" She bent to put her face directly in front of his.

"Fred," she implored. "Can you hear me? Is there anything we can do?" He had bent over double, grimacing in pain, yet he managed to utter one word: "Coral," he whispered through clenched teeth.

Rose reacted immediately.

"Dad!" she shouted. "Call in the jet! Get us to the dimension cannon!" Pete nodded and whipped out his cell phone to dial TORCHWOOD, while Bartho paced restlessly around the cove.

Rose waded through the snow to crouch behind Fred, wrapping her arms around him to bring him comfort. He trembled beneath her, and she felt his heart beating at a gallop against her hand. She ran her fingers through his hair, pressed her lips against the back of his neck.

"It's alright," she whispered into his ear. "Everything's goin' to be okay. We're gonna get you that coral, Fred, and it'll make you better. You're gonna be fine." A tear trickled down her cheek, unnoticed as she gently rocked the quivering body beneath her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A series of mirrors formed a circle in the middle of the stark black room, wires strewn haphazardly along the floor. Fred lay in the center of the ring, shivering in a dazed fever as Rose searched frantically for the missing piece of TARDIS coral. She shouted from one of the consoles to see if Pete or Bartho were having any luck.

"No," they replied, the sound of their boots shuffling along the concrete floor.

"Well, it has to be here _somewhere_," she insisted. Her worry for Fred had tripled on the ride back from Avebury. She had tried to give him tea on board the aircraft, but he'd stopped drinking after only a few sips. Rose loathed feeling helpless. She had learned everything she could about the universe to avoid it. Knowledge was power, and she'd found it necessary to survival in this reality.

Watching Fred in so much pain was killing something inside of her, and she nearly cried in relief as she felt the familiar texture of TARDIS coral beneath her fingertips. It had been resting just below one of the cannon's power coils. Rose supposed that it reminded the coral of its home.

She jumped to her feet and brought the peach-colored piece of TARDIS to Fred's quivering form. To her surprise, the coral seemed to hum inaudibly as Fred pulled it to his chest. His eyes fluttered open, beads of cold sweat standing out on his forehead. The coral was roughly the size of a football, all porous and alien as he held it close, fingers moving gently over the rough edges. His breathing began to slow, and Rose smoothed damp hair from his pale forehead.

Fred's eyes closed and opened slowly, breathing shallowly through his mouth as he took in her bedraggled appearance. His eyes looked so tired, and she took his hand and held it to her chest. "How are you feeling?" she asked him gently.

He closed his eyes again and exhaled. His other hand clutched at the coral as he blinked in disorientation. "Where are we?" he asked, sounding bewildered.

"The dimension cannon," she told him, gesturing with her head to the mirrors. "Those are used to reflect chronon particles. We had to come here for the coral."

Fred nodded slightly, then turned his head to face her once more. His gaze fell to his hand, still held by Rose against her chest. He exhaled gently through his nose, caressed the back of her knuckles with his thumb. "Rose," he sighed. "I need to go."

Her expression tensed, and she held onto his hand even tighter than before. "I-," she began, and stopped. She knew. Of course she knew. The Doctor was leaving her behind, just as like he always did. It was a vicious cycle, and Rose wanted no more part in it. The flame that had come to life within her died out at the realization.

She let his hand fall to the ground.

Fred must have seen part of her shutting down, because he forced himself to sit up, gasping and wincing along the way. "Rose," he began, but she cut him off.

"_Don't,_" she grated. "Just don't." She rose to her feet and began to walk toward Bartho, intending to tell him to send Fred away. A hand gripping her arm stopped her, and she turned to face a very unbalanced Fred.

Rose shrugged him off and stooped down to pick up the abandoned coral, handing it to him as he grabbed at her shoulder.

"If it's the last time you ever listen to me, Rose, just hear me out," he stated, grating the last three words in emphasis. The lapels of her father's jacket hung loosely from his too-thin body, and the ankles of his pants were tattered. His eyes pleaded with her, pupils near to full dilation in the dim light. Against her better judgment, Rose nodded.

Fred swallowed, running his hand down her arm to grip her wrist. "I'm not sure what he's done, Rose, but he needs you. So do I, but the Ood were right - he and I need balance. You humans," he shook his head in wonder, "with all of your compassion and curiousity, all of that vitality because you burn out so quickly. The Ood were right, Rose, but you cut to the heart of the matter before they could even begin," he stated with a brief chuckle.

"Rose Tyler, you amaze me," he continued, setting the coral gently on the floor beside his feet. Fred reached out to hold both of her hands in his, deep brown eyes looking down into hers. Rose's fingers betrayed her with their insistent tingle.

"Back in Bartho's lab, when you told me that I'm so much more than a reflection of the Doctor- I can't thank you enough for believing in me," he told her, stepping closer to back up his words. She barely registered the retreating footsteps of Bartho and her father.

"I am the Doctor-Donna," he gently affirmed. "She is the humanity within me, and judging from what the Ood said, she's about to save the universe. Again."

"She's brilliant," Rose responded softly. He broke into a brillaint smile of agreement, and glanced up behind her at their reflection. His eyes shone as he witnessed the two of them, so very close in so many different perspectives. _Different worlds,_ she thought to herself. _but one of those mirrors shows the real thing._ She hoped more than anything that the reflection was her own.

"As are you," he told her gently. He lifted a hand to cup the side of her face, thumb tracing the line from the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone. "I'm going to find River, and I'd explain everything to you, Rose, but I can feel my time running out. Do you remember what Gwyneth said earlier about a man in a cage?"

"That's you," she realized aloud, and he nodded before going on.

"My mind is too complex for this body. Whenever I think on the level of a Time Lord, it compensates by shutting down. Sort of like when you've got flu, and you need a lot of bed rest. It got so bad that the Doctor had to let Donna go. And now it's happening to me," he ended sadly.

Rose remained silent, forcing herself to hyper-awareness of every inch of Fred. He'd be leaving her soon, and she was terrified.

He let out a long breath as he trailed his hand up and along the side of her face, weaving his fingers into strands of golden hair. Each and every part of Rose was conscious of his fingertips gliding along sensitive skin, and she closed her eyes for a moment to take a mental snapshot of the feeling.

"I'm so sorry, but you can't come with me. You need to be ready, because I'm going to bring him back to you," he murmured. "And it isn't fair, Rose. He needs you, but I'm not convinced that he deserves you. I don't know what he's done. And I wish it were me," he finished, voice breaking with pent-up emotion. Rose pressed her fingertips against his lips, nodding in understanding.

"I know," she told him gently. She removed her hand from his mouth to rest it on his shoulder, gently massaging the back of his neck with her fingertips. He bent down to press his forehead against hers, and shivers ran through her as their breath mingled. Her eyes fluttered shut in surrender.

"I love you, Fred."

She heard him swallow, and he held her face in both hands, closing the distance between them. His lips brushed gently against hers, his breath hot against her mouth as he whispered, "And I love you, Rose."

Tears forming in her eyes, Rose surrounded his lower lip with hers, tugging gently and brushing across it with her tongue. His mouth opened slightly in a quiet gasp, and she placed both hands on the back of his head to pull him into a deeper kiss. She was going to show him what he meant to her - what _he_ meant to her - whether he liked it or not.

The heat inside of his mouth threatened to melt her, and she clung to him for dear life as his tongue swept across hers. The fingers of one hand threaded into the hair at the nape of her neck, and he reached down to the small of her back to pull her tightly against him. His lips crushed down against hers with force enough to bruise, his tongue darting across her upper lip before gliding across her tongue. He wrapped his arms around her, plundering her mouth with enough passion to make her whimper.

He pulled away abruptly, his forehead falling against her shoulder as he turned to inhale her scent. She wrapped an arm around him, cradling the back of his neck with the other to hold him close. Rose could feel his heart beating in rapid tandem with her own, and closed her eyes at the threat of tears.

"Rose," Fred whispered reverently into her hair, before pulling back to gaze at her. His lips were swollen from kisses, hair strewn madly about. His eyes were full of love, and he reached out to run his thumb across her lips. She imagined that he must see a mirror of his own yearning expression in her face.

"Promise me something," he asked her gently, his upward-tilted eyebrows reflecting the torrent of emotion within him. He looked very much like his other self during their first trip to Bad Wolf Bay, just before he was going to tell her that he loved her.

"Anything," she promised. What could she possibly refuse him?

"Don't let him push you away," he told her, his voice firm. "Because that's exactly what he'll try to do. Last night, when I looked into your mind - that's how Time Lords are accustomed to sharing emotion. We aren't wordsmiths when it comes to expressing our deepest feelings, Rose. It's part of the reason he couldn't tell you he loves you. Because to him, it really doesn't need saying. To him, you ought to know from the way he behaves when he's with you."

At Rose's slightly disappointed expression, Fred hastened to reassure her: "It isn't that he doesn't feel for you the way I do, Rose. He does - maybe even more once he realizes that you're going to rescue him from himself. That will terrify him, and he'll probably do something stupid. And you can't force him into anything, or it will make matters even worse."

He sighed and shook his head. "Somehow, you need to get him to show you how he's feeling. You've got to get him back in touch with his humanity. That's the task you've bestowed upon yourself, Rose," he ended gently.

"But I still don't understand how I could have been in the Elder's dreams," she objected.

"I do," he admitted, "but I can't explain it right now without fizzling out again."

Rose nodded, and firmed her shoulders. "Then I suppose we ought to get you the help you need," she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

He nodded slowly, and she squeezed his shoulder, then let her hand drop away as she continued, "I'll get you hooked up so that you'll - wait. Nevermind," she said hastily. "You're a time traveller - don't need all the fancy wiring," she told him, forcing a laugh.

He smiled sadly at her, looking so lost that she wanted nothing more than to take him into her arms once more. But she knew that if she did, she'd never be able to let go. Rose reached out to squeeze his hand, then turned away to get behind the main switchboard. "Think you can give me the coordinates of Alla... Allasa-"

"Allosophieron," he corrected her, and walked over to plug in the planet's location. "Didn't give a time," he muttered regretfully. "When's your birthday, Rose?"

"1987, April the 27th. Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Oh, no reason," he assured her while pushing a few extra buttons. "Ready?" he asked.

"No," she told him truthfully.

"Neither am I," Fred admitted. He raised a hand halfway toward her, then dropped it to his side. He tried to smile at her, and it ended up somewhere between a smile and a frown. Turning away, Fred made his way to the center of the mirrors. Rose blinked rapidly at the tears in her eyes, biting her lower lip as she took in the sight of Fred in all of his reflections looking so close to collapse.

Rose closed her hand on the lever that would power up the cannon. Fred reached down to pick up the piece of coral, and she forced herself to push the lever away from herself. Lights fired and the hum of electricity filled the air. Fred's eyes were wide, his fingertips white where they pressed against the coral.

She felt her lips tremble in an effort to keep from crying, and Fred was breathing so quickly, his chest rising and falling far too rapidly. Her fingers were poised over the button that would send him away from her. Forever. The Doctor who'd told her that he loves her, with all of his wildness and joy. She saw everything in his eyes at that moment, everything that he was trying to tell her, and it wrenched her heart.

She licked her dry lips and held eye contact with him. "I love you," she whispered in a final vow, her voice quivering. She saw his own lip tremble as he held the coral tightly to his chest, and he opened his mouth.

Rose pressed the button.

Fred's atoms were lit from within, and he disappeared with the coral. The words never made it past his lips, but she knew what he was going to say. Rose sat down on the concrete floor and pulled her knees into her chest. She lay her head upon her arms and let the sobs rack her body. Her cries echoed through the chamber, empty save for herself.

She wiped her nose against her sleeve, and allowed herself to weep for the man she'd lost again. But she knew what he was going to say this time around. She choked up at the memory and gave a full-throated sob. _It's okay,_ she told herself. _He's coming back. The Doctor's coming back._ She believed in Fred. She missed him already.

Rose recalled the image of him standing in the midst of the cannon, looking so vulnerable as he opened his mouth to tell her. Fresh tears flowed from her eyes.

She knew.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Notes:

Thank you for your patience. This would have been posted earlier, but I came across a story that recounted and wrapped up a fix-it for the EoT quite succinctly. Instead of being inspired, I got discouraged, thinking of the audience rather than the story. She did such a great job that I nearly quit, but the characters continued to tell their story whether I wanted them to or not. Then I heard the great writer, Paul Auster, speak about writing - sometimes, even if we stop, the tale continues to write itself. Myself aside, I hope that you enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter Nine: Flicker, Flicker, Little Star**

_"Look to this day:  
For it is life, the very life of life.  
In its brief course  
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence...  
For yesterday is but a dream  
And tomorrow is only a vision..."_

-from "Look to This Day," by Kalidasa

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Rose sniffed and scrubbed at her tear-streaked cheeks. She rose quickly to her feet, glanced at her reflection in the mirror and hastily tried to smooth her hair.

"Rose!" Jackie's voice from the corridor. "You there, love?" Turning the corner, Jackie's trainers padded their way into the Cannon bay. She dropped the plastic-sheathed suit she'd been carrying, and rushed in to wrap her arms around her daughter.

"There, it'll be okay," she soothed. "Tell me what's happened, and we'll see if we can't make it better. Alright?"

Rose felt tears beginning to rise once more, and pressed her face into her mother's shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in the familiar, citrus scent of Jackie's perfume.

"We can't," she replied dully, voice muffled by the sweater. "He's gone. His body couldn't cope with his mind."

"Oh, love." Jackie sighed, then pushed Rose away to see her more clearly. She smoothed her daughter's disheveled hair, licking a finger to wipe at streak of mascara.

"Fred," her voice broke at the name, "he went to go get the Doctor, because he's in trouble. He needs our help."

"Gone to the other universe, you mean?" Jackie demanded in disbelief. "I thought it was off-limits! Gonna destroy all creation, is he? And without my daughter?"

Rose nodded, swallowing hard and inhaling deeply to compose herself. "Yeah, but it had to be that way. I've gotta stay here for when he brings back the Doctor. Didn't Dad say something to you about it?"

Jackie shrugged her shoulders as if to ask, "when has your father told me anything?" Rose sighed and continued:

"Thing is, we saw an Ood - sort of a sqiddy-faced alien." Rose paused in recollection, staring thoughtfully at their reflections before going on. "He told us that the only chance to save everything was for Fred to find this- this woman, River, I think her name was - and for the proper Doctor to somehow make his way back to us."

Jackie took in Rose's troubled expression. She was silent for a few precious seconds, then shook her head in resignation.

"I can't begin to understand everythin' involved in all this, Rose," she admitted. "But I can tell its takin' its toll on you. The Doctor's wonderful and brilliant and he's saved the world, but he's done a number on my daughter."

Rose lowered her gaze to the floor. She struggled inwardly to contain all of the emotions flooding through her - sadness, resentment, fear, anticipation, love, guilt - and visibly trembled at the effort. Her eyes fell to the dark blue suit that lay in a heap beside her mother's trainers.

"Why don't you-" Jackie began, but was cut off by Rose.

"Is that his suit?" she demanded, and held her mother's gaze. Jackie nearly flinched at Rose's fierce scrutiny, and could not help the small pang of regret at the changes within her daughter. She might be stronger, braver, maybe even wiser - but she couldn't reconcile these qualities with the steel in that determined stare.

"It's his suit," she responded quietly. "Got it cleaned for 'im - you should have seen, let alone _smelled_ the state of it. Brought it back so he wouldn't have to look like a monkey in Pete's clothes. Guess it's too late for that," she ended, and her eyebrows shot up as Rose reached out to natch the cellphone from Jackie's coat pocket.

"What you doin' that for?" she exclaimed, but her daughter had already raised the phone to her ear, silencing Jackie with a finger to her lips.

"Bartho?" she asked in tones of urgency, "Please come down to the Cannon, I need your help." Rose paused for his reply, then pressed the red "hang up" button and handed the phone back to Jackie. She ran to the main control panel, jotted a few indecipherable figures onto a sheet of wrinkled paper, and began pressing buttons in earnest.

Jackie came to stand by her side. "What this all about?" she asked, worried at the dangerous mood her daughter was in.

"He's alone, Mum," Rose explained impatiently. "And like usual, he thinks he doesn't need any help. But he does, and this time I'm going to make sure he gets it."

"But you can't!" Jackie exclaimed in disbelief, but Rose ignored her to type rapidly into the keyboard console. "You need to be here for the Doctor when Fred brings him back, you can't just go gallivanting off-"

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Rose stated firmly, and turned to face her mother's agitated expression. "You are."

Jackie's jaw dropped as Rose began to hammer at the keys once more. "But - I don't know how any of this-" she gestured wildly at the surrounding apparatus, "this crazy set-up of yours works!"

"No need," she assured her mother, a gleam in her eye as she continued to check the doorway for Bartho's impending arrival. "We'll do all the technical stuff. All you need is to stand in the middle."

"That's _all_ all I gotta do, is it?" Jackie planted her fists on her hips, and turned a full glare on her daughter. Rose wilted only slightly as her mother continued, "and wha' am I supposed to do on the other side? Go runnin' off with Fred to God only knows where? And at _my_ age?"

"Mum," Rose soothed, reaching out to hold her Mum by the shoulders, "now's not the time to get insecure, alright? You'll be fine." She looked up and let out a breath, raising a hand to wave frantically at the entrace.

"Bartho!" she cried, and the elderly man picked up his pace as he entered the oversized room.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, coming to approach the main console. Jackie took in his dignified expression, and mentally discarded any misgivings about her own age. If this man could be so spry… Well! Let them see what Jackie Tyler was made of! Squaring her shoulders, she turned again to face her daughter.

"I've already set the coordinates," Rose began. "It's scanning for any impossible, or at least improbable life forms." She raised her eyes to her mother, and was impressed at the resolve she found there.. _That's not fair,_ she inwardly berated herself. _She's every bit as brave as I am. Maybe even more_.

"D'you remember Captain Jack?" she asked, and continued after Jackie's nod, "I need for you to tell him about the danger Fred's in. Ask for his help. I wouldn't go to anyone else, and I trust him with my own life every bit as much as the Doctor."

Tucking the hair behind her ears, Rose stepped away from the console to hold her mother out by the arms. "I understand if you have any doubts, Mum, but I promise you that Bartho and I won't let anything happen to you. We'll take turns on watch until you come back. Right, Bartho?"

Rose felt somewhat guilty at her assumption that he had no other plans, and smiled in relief at his resolute nod. She walked over to a metal cabinet, opened it and took out a bulky brown jacket.

"Mum," she helped Jackie's arms into the sleeves, "Jack used to have these bracelet-type things, vortex manipulators. Ask him if he has any. If he doesn't, all you need to do is hold onto him and yank the chain," Rose motioned to a handle attached to a cord inside the jacket lining, "and you'll be back here with us."

Jackie nodded, and Rose handed over a battered piece of paper from the main console. "These are the coordinates to where Fred's headed," she explained. "If he's got those manipulators, Mum, tell Jack to go there and find him. He'll know what to do when he gets there," she added, although she was unsure of any truth to back her statement. "Once he's on his way, you pull that cord and come back to us. Right?"

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Dunno… I fancy a trip to old Linda's for a facial," she quipped. "They just don't make cold cream like hers in this world. Couldn't I pop by and pick some up?"

Rose gave her mother a flat look, then took her by the elbow and lead her into the centre of the mirrors. With a reassuring smile, she made her way to Bartho's side behind the controls. Jackie picked up the plastic-encased suit from where it had been abandoned on the floor.

"Ready?" Rose asked, and winced inwardly as she recognized the word from her conversation with Fred, not even an hour ago. She felt a wave of solitude wash over her and nearly became sick, but forced it down with a swallow. At Jackie's nod, Rose pushed at the main lever.

The look on her daughter's face wasn't lost on Jackie Tyler. _I'll get him back for you, _she told her with her eyes. The last thing she saw was her daughter's desperate expression, before the floor fell away beneath her and she was blinded by light.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hotel Zeddz'ull  
Zagizalgul, Zog  
2012, January 5th

Jackie blinked in confusion, eyes slowly adjusting to her new surroundings. Something large was obstructing her view, surrounded by the light of what she presumed to be a lamp on the other side of the room. She moved her hand, and felt itchy strands of carpet between her fingers. There was the sound of glass breaking, and Jackie struggled to sit up.

"What the hell-" a male voice cut itself off, and her face was shadowed by the lighted outline of a man. Jackie squinted to bring him into focus, but his face remained in the dark. "Jackie Tyler?" the voice asked incredulously. A hand reached down to grip hers, and she allowed him to help her stand.

A gorgeous specimen of masculinity stood before her in nothing but his knickers. Wide blue eyes took her in from head to toe, and she preened under the scrutiny. It wasn't often that a man of his stature paid proper attention to her appearance, and she determined to make the most of it.

"Like what you see?" she drawled, and stepped forward to run a finger along his chest hair. Jackie put on her most vulnerable expression and batted her eyelashes.

"Under any other circumstances, Mrs. Tyler," he began, and took her wandering hand in his. "Right now, I'd like to know what you're doing in my hotel room, and how you got here without a vortex manipulator."

Jackie shook herself to her senses at the familiar words. "Vortex manicurator, yea - you've got one, have you? Captain Jack Harkness, then?"

"At your service, my lady," he intoned, and bowed to plant a kiss on the back of her hand. "I do happen to have a vortex _manipulator_ with me. Now that we've cleared that up, would you be so kind as to answer my questions?"

She reached into a pocket and held out the crumpled piece of paper, and began to explain as he took it from her: "Rose sent me."

He nodded as though he'd suspected this to be the case. "D'you remember the Doctor's twin?" she went on. "The human one?"

Jack nodded again, a frown creasing his face as he studied the coordinates.

"He's in trouble," she told him.

"Tell me something new," he replied, and Jackie shook a finger at him.

"Its nothing to make light of," she scolded. "He's in real trouble, Rose says. Says his mind is too quick for his body to keep up with, like, and he went to find someone to help. Only Rose knows he can't do it by hisself, so she sent me to find you."

"And what's stopping her from being the one to help him?" he asked cynically.

Jackie leveled a frown at him. "Rose would do anything for the Doctor," she responded coldly. "'s why I'm here and not her. Fred - the human one - is goin' to get the Doctor and bring him to Rose, because he needs help. Ood said she's the only one who can help him." She felt pride in her ability to remember the name of the species who had warned her daughter.

"So he's suddenly alright with ripping holes in reality?" Jack sighed in resignation. "I'll help, Jackie. But only on the condition that the Doctor will finally admit that he's a hypocrite."

Jackie opened her mouth to speak, but Jack rode over: "I know you can't make any promises for him. Going with you means I'll be able to drag it out of him myself." He grinned and winked at her, then reached down and began to pick up his clothes.

He gestured toward the piece of paper whilst tugging on his pants. "I'm assuming those are the coordinates to this river that - Fred, was it? - is headed for?"

Jackie nodded, making no effort to hide her visible fascination with the rippling muscles of his arms and chest. He finished fastening the buttons of his shirt, and his eyes fell to the suit that lay beside his unexpected guest. "Is there a dress code for where we're headed?"

Thus jolted out of her reverie, Jackie made a mental note to have Pete start bench-pressing again. "No," she began. "I'm not goin' with you. Rose's expectin' me home soon. The suit is for Fred - it was his from when he first came back with us."

Jack raised both eyebrows and whistled. "So Fred's traipsing around Allospheiron in his birthday suit?" His face dimpled into a huge smile at the mental image.

"No, you pervert!" she chided him. "First off, he can't do any traipsin' at all, seein' as he's sick! And he's wearin' my husband's clothes, but I'm willin' to bet he looks a wreck by now. Never could stay out o' trouble," she ended in a mutter.

"Not to worry," he assured her. "I'll bring it to him, safe and sound." Jack shrugged himself into his overcoat, shoved Fred's suit into a knapsack that he swung onto his back, and seemed to hesitate. He brought out a long, silvery device with a greenish tip and made his way to the hotel door. The instrument made a humming sound as he waved it over the surface, and he flipped it into the air, catching it just as he came to stand in front of Jackie.

"Am I supposed to be impressed, then?" she asked him blandly.

"Doesn't matter," Jack shrugged. "I'm impressed enough for both of us. Sonic screwdriver," he bragged with a winning smile, and pocketed the device. "Lifted it from a Chulan woman at the leisure palace on Midnight, a week before it was shut down. Never mix hypervodka and Draconian sake, Jackie."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jackie answered vaguely.

"So, you go your way, I'll go mine?" He flashed a dimple at her and added, "can you bear it?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I've managed this long, haven't I?" Still, she could hardly resist a flirtatious wink, to which he responded with a hearty chuckle. _Bench presses, and maybe some abdominal gliding, _she amended.

"Sure you know where you're goin'? she asked, not wanting Rose to worry about his safety.

"Where and when," Jack assured her. "You?"

"'Course," she answered, flipping her hair over a shoulder.

"Well, then," he smiled. "Until we meet again, Jackie Tyler. Safe journey," and with a bow, Jack raised her hand to his lips in a final farewell. He straightened, pressed a red button on his wristband, and vanished from sight. All that remained of his presence was the memory of a dimpled smile, and Jackie's slightly accelerated heart rate.

She let out a little sigh, and was about to pull the chain when she recalled Jack's bizarre gestures at the room's exit. She bit her lower lip, then crossed the room to inspect the door. A series of numbers were scrawled upon the surface, along with an address and a few graphic words that sent heat rising to Jackie's cheeks. The message was addressed to someone named Alonso, and Jack hadn't signed his name. She shrugged, then reached inside of her jacket and yanked on the cord.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

2012, February 23rd  
Cardiff, England

"Rose," Bartho called from behind the main console. She looked up from her idle tracing of the concrete floor, and jumped to her feet as the Cannon fired. Jackie burst into being, and Rose rushed in to catch her before she fell. Her mother held on tightly, feet shuffling along the floor as she struggled to regain her balance.

"You alright, Mum?" Jackie nodded and pressed a hand to her head.

"Yea, 'm fine, just a bit dizzy. Not used to travellin' in a dimension cannon, am I?" Her mother let go to brush ineffectively at flyaways from her haphazard ponytail. "Found him, of course," she added.

"Did you?" Rose felt a smile make its way onto her face. "How was he?"

"Half-naked and cheeky," Jackie responded with a contagious laugh.

"Sounds like Jack," she agreed with a hiccupy giggle. "Is he goin' to find Fred, then?"

Jackie nodded. "'s got his own vortex manipulator," she emphasized the final word, "and left just before I did. Didn't sound too happy about it, though," she recalled aloud.

"But he's gone to help, right?" Rose asked, worry entering her voice.

"Course he has," her mother soothed. "No man in their right mind could say no to my daughter, least of all the Doctor or good Cap'n Jack. Just said something about him bein' a hypocrite, is all."

"Ripping more holes in the fabric of reality," she sighed. "Can't blame him for that. The Doctor was always lecturing us on the dangers of universal collapse. Not really his fault this time, though - whatever warned the Ood about the rifts, we have to trust it."

_Because it was me_, she reminded herself. _But how? Fred couldn't tell me, even though he knew the answer. Awful convenient for him, _she thought sarcastically, then mentally chastised herself before giving in to doubt. Fred was seriously ill, and she could not blame him for something he had no control over.

She was so, _so_ tired. Now that Rose had done all she could to help, every emotion she had buried so deeply - hurt, guilt, love, regret, fear, anger - were clawing their way to the surface. She shut her eyes against the onslaught and felt her mother's arms surrounding her.

"I'll take it from here, Bartho," she heard her mother say. "Thank you for all you've done for them." Footsteps made their way around the room, but Rose couldn't open her eyes for fear of loosing the floodgate.

"Rose," Jackie called softly. "Open your eyes, love. You've been through so much." Rose felt herself being tugged toward the ground, and let her eyes flutter open to witness her mother's concerned expression.

"Let it go, Rose," she soothed, and lightly touched her daughter's cheek.

Rose shook her head adamantly from side to side. "I already have, Mum," and stopped as she began to choke up.

Jackie reached out to hold her daughter's face in her hands. "Listen," she said, her voice hard but compassionate. "Everybody needs to lose control sometimes. And you've done so much these past two days that you've _got_ to let go. Else you'll break, love."

Rose felt her lips beginning to tremble, and squeezed her eyes shut. _Stay strong,_ she urged herself. _It will pass. It always does. _

"Please, Rose," Jackie pleaded, releasing her face to grip her shoulders. "The Doctor wouldn't want this for you."

And that was all it took. At her mention of "the Doctor," images began to tumble through Rose's mind:

-flicker-

_Fred grazing her knuckles with his lips on board the helicopter, his eyes boring into hers_

-flicker-

_The Doctor standing before her statue in the British Museum, hands in his overcoat pockets_

-flicker-

_Firelight dancing along Fred's cheekbones as he turned to face her: "I told him that if- " his voice became hoarse, and he swallowed before continuing, "'that if I believe in anything – just one thing – I believe in her.'"_

-flicker-

_Fred grinning cheekily at her on the staircase landing. "New new new Doctor, that's me - thrice rude and twice as smelly." _

-flicker-

_Gwyneth's terrified expression as she whispered in a trance, "Time as a puzzle, the pieces broken and scattered... a severed hand, a man inside a cage-"_

-flicker-

_His lips brushed gently against hers, his breath hot against her mouth as he whispered, "And I love you, Rose." _

-flicker-

_Lights fired and the hum of electricity filled the air. Fred's eyes were wide, his fingertips white where they pressed against the coral_

-flicker-

_The Doctor giving her a strangled, forced smile. "I'll bet you're going to have a really great year."_

-flicker-

_"I love you," she whispered in a final vow, her voice quivering. She saw his own lip tremble as he held the coral tightly to his chest, and he opened his mouth..._

Rose shook under the onslaught of visions from the past. "Oh, God, it hurts," she moaned against her mother's shoulder. Great sobs shuddered through her body, and she bit her knuckles to keep from howling with grief.

She loved him so much, and they'd been so close! So _close_ to that thing she'd always longed for without knowing what it was, only that it involved the Doctor and some distant feeling. Contentment? Peace? Could these things even exist when it came to life with the Doctor?

Jackie made soothing sounds as she gently rocked her daughter on the concrete floor. Her knees were beginning to chafe, but she barely felt it. Rose needed this, and she was only too glad to help. She had been worried for her daughter's sanity, and was reassured to hear the raw emotion in Rose's voice, however much it might pain her.

All of the grief was carried away in the form of tears and noise, up from where it lay dormant in her body. Exhaustion began to overtake Rose as the sobs finally slowed, and she wiped her nose against her filthy sleeve. She turned her cheek to rest it against her mother's shoulder, and let Jackie stroke her back in reassuring gestures.

Something akin to emptiness overtook her, and she closed her eyes in the closest feeling to peace in longer than she could remember. Rose breathed deeply, relaxing her shoulders as she inhaled Jackie's comforting smell. It was the smell of home, such as it was without the Doctor. And though she was darkly aware of the hurt that still remained, she allowed herself this brief rest. Something told her that it would be needed for the events to come.

Neither Rose nor her mother entertained the notion of what the Doctor's arrival might mean . It was a question for the future. All they had was now, and each other.

Together they waited, among the wires and mirrors of the Dimension Cannon, seated in a silent vigil for the Doctor's return.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: This chapter is another that was going to be a great deal longer, but I've decided to split it in the interest of getting this one up by the end of the weekend, and because it seemed a good place to stop. Please let me know what you think;-) And.. if you have **theories?** I love theories! Please post them on the reviews column:o)

**Chapter Ten: An Unlikely Hero**

_"Although men are accused  
of not knowing their own weakness,  
yet perhaps few know their own strength.  
It is in men as in soils,  
where sometimes there is a vein of gold  
which the owner knows not of."  
-Jonathan Swift_

The Adamant Citadel  
Collegium Intellectum  
Allosopheiron  
The Gnosi Cluster

5142, April the 27th

Bright green, blue and magenta ribbons cast their light onto the shining domes of Collegium Intellectum, streaking in myriad colors across the starry skies. The many domes were shaped like giant teardrops, each building spread across the sparkling landscape in the shape of a coil. If the curves of a sea shell were to be reworked on a metropolitan scale, it would find its twin in Collegium Intellectum - the city of 'collective understanding.'

Trees and blades of grass shone brilliantly in a luminsecent echo of the night sky, rustling softly in the warm breeze. A stray leaf, the color of twilight, was caught in a sudden rush of wind and carried along its blustery path. Upward and inward it flew into the center of the coil, where the Adament Citadel stood, hovering unerringly above the city's heart.

Curtains of oxygen and nitrogen danced along the planet's atmosphere, dazzling the twisted adamantine pinnacle of the Citadel. A balcony had been built into the bottom of the tower, which spiraled its way up to the crystalline crown. An entrance marked the beginning of each floor, each one a few degrees further than the next. The sides were sheer, its scale immense - ninety-eight stories stretched upward into the gaping sky. There were no adjoining towers. The Adamant Citadel stood alone on its plinth of magnetic rock.

The eighty-seventh floor of the building housed the Gnosi Cluster's most prized scholars. Each was given a sizable dormitory, the means of food generation, and a nearly unlimited supply of equipment for their research. At her desk in one such dormitory sat the imminent Professor River Song, making urgent notes on a sheet of dirty graph paper. Curls of steam arose from a mug resting by her rapidly moving wrist, glasses perched on her nose, hair pulled back into a messy cluster of curls.

A loud 'CRACK' resounded, and River nearly jumped out of her skin, accidentally knocking over the mug in her distress. Hot liquid poured over her desk, muddying painstakingly precise notes and figures. She cursed and picked up her graph paper before it could be soiled, then looked up to find the source of the noise. Her body jolted once more at what she saw, and the paper fluttered to the ground.

Fred's mouth was slightly agape, his hair a mess, face streaked with dust and sweat. He shuddered at the familiarity of the situation - at being cut off before the words could pass his lips - and abruptly clamped his mouth shut. He opened his eyes wide to focus, and cleared his throat. Thankfully, the coral had survived the trip, and he clutched it fiercely to his chest.

His body was still trembling, and he slowly became aware of an arm gripping his. All at once, he realized that he couldn't feel the ground properly beneath his feet. He pressed the toes of one foot to an ankle, hoping to regain contact with the planet by taking his shoes off. Fred heard a strange buzzing sound, as through cotton wool, and tilted his head to the side. The buzz got slightly louder, and he reached up to hastily clean his ears.

Fred brought the waxy finger back for visual inspection, and jumped at the suddenly audible question:

"What's happened to you? Doctor?"

It was a woman's voice. Not _her_ voice. This one was darker, fuller, more mature. Fred blinked as he took in curly hair, hazel eyes and shiny magenta lips. _Wait - shiny magenta?_ He had reason to be suspicious of that particular shade's now-and-again hallucinogenic nature. He bent toward her to get a better whiff, and she pulled back with a smile.

"Not now, sweetie," she scolded, shaking her head in mock-consternation. It dawned on him that she had misread his intentions, but wasn't given the chance to justify his actions:

"Don't get me wrong," she went on. "It isn't as though I wouldn't enjoy it, but it might spoil our first kiss." Then she winked at him. Winked! The woman had cheek! _Still,_ he thought, _can't afford to waste time with an argument. Haven't got a TARDIS this go-round. _Fred was beginning to remember his reason for being here to begin with, and held fast to the coral as his mind began to race.

"River," he began. "I'm dying, and I need your help. We haven't got a lot of time." She opened her mouth to answer, and this time both of them jumped as another body materialized beside them. Fred's jaw dropped, the coral tumbling from his hands.

"_Jack?_ What?" Fred sputtered, his mind spinning. He could feel the blood vessels in his brain expanding and contracting, and shut his eyes against the pain.

"Hey, it's okay, Doc," came Jack's reassuring American accent. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, another supporting him beneath his arm. Fred swallowed and allowed his eyelids to reopen, taking in Jack's slightly troubled smile. "Knew you'd come calling again one of these days."

"I don't believe we've met," River interjected, and held her hand out to Jack. "River Song, professor of archeology and genetics."

"Genetics?" Fred repeated with a frown. "I thought you were just an archeologist."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head as though to ask, 'Never learn, do you?' "Jack Harkness, at your service," he intoned, flashing a dimple at River as he raised her hand to his lips. "Smart is sexy. It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor."

"Pleasure's all mine," she replied with a knowing smile. _And here we go_, Fred sighed inwardly. He barely resisted rolling his eyes.

"Vortex manipulator," River added. "A time agent, are you?"

"Many moons ago," Jack answered with a chuckle. "Now it's just for fun."

Fred angily opened opened his mouth to divulge in yet _another_ lecture on the dangers of inter-dimensional travel, but Jack held up his hand. "Hold your tongue for a second, hypocrite," he told him, then reached into his overcoat. Fred felt his eyes bulge near out of his skull as Jack pulled out a genuine sonic screwdriver.

"Thought so," Jack stated smugly. "Relieved it from a sleeping Chulan. What's it worth to ya?"

Fred narrowed his eyes. He should have suspected an ulterior motive from Jack Harkness. Didn't friendship count for anything anymore? _Then again,_ he thought, _Jack might actually make use of it. This body is rubbish for thinking on the sonic level._

"Nothing," he replied. "Keep it. I won't be needing it anytime soon." Jack's jaw dropped, but Fred rode him over, "Why are you here? How? And by 'how,' I mean how did you know where to find me?"

"Rose," Jack replied simply, and Fred's heartrate immediately doubled.

Jack's expression became concerned, "Easy, Doc! She sent her Mom to find me, and gave me the coordinates of your location. As far as I know, Rose and Jackie are both safe and sound in the other universe."

Fred abruptly remembered River's presence, and glanced quickly at her. She was as infuriatingly calm as ever. _I'll bet that little blue book told her all about this_, he mused in recollection.

Then it all fell into place.

He reached out to grip her by the arms: "River!" he began, his voice low and intense, "your little blue book, did it tell you that we were going to meet here today?"

She held his eyes and slowly nodded, "Yes."

"And?" he demanded, leaning in to study her expression.

She reached up to touch his hair. "Such lovely locks," she sighed. "Shame I never really got to know them."

"River," Fred warned tersely. He was dimly aware of Jack, arms folded indifferently across his chest. The gesture struck him as odd, though he couldn't quite summon the curiousity to find out why. His unfortunately human brain was limited to focus on one event at a time.

She nodded and bent down to retrieve the piece of graph paper. It had miraculously survived the spill, and she held it out to him. Fred shook his head, arms to his sides to keep from reaching for it.

"Don't know if I can handle it," he stated regretfully. "Every time I have any sort of - oh, I don't know, revelation? - my body starts to shut down. Can't handle the superior Time Lord paradigm."

River raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Superior? Hardly."

Fred found himself at an unfamiliar loss for words, and an unlikely hero came to his rescue:

"He might not be much for looks, lady," Jack defended, pointing to his own temple before going on, "but he's got a lot goin' on upstairs."

"Oh, believe me, I know," River sighed. "At any rate, Doctor, there's one thing you have got right. We've not got much time."

Fred knew he shouldn't let them call him the "Doctor," but it felt _so_ nice. After all, he shared the same memories with that very man. That very Time Lord. And Rose had never called him "Doctor."

Rose had called him Fred.

And in that instant, he decided that his name would always be Fred, because it was the name those he loved had given him - and only he would ever know. He and the Doctor would would each have their own hidden names, albeit for different reasons.

"Doctor?" Jack asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Fine," he replied, and turned again to River: "You were saying?"

Her eyes were full of compassion, and she reached out to hold his hand. "You need to stay here, Doctor. Jack and I have an errand to run, but we'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Fred demanded at the same time that Jack asked, "Where are we going?"

River looked from one man to the next, weighing their expressions. She nodded to herself, appearing to reach a conclusion. "I'll tell you as much as I can in a moment's time." Her gaze wandered to the open window, the lights of the Aurora streaming across the sky.

"Doctor, I will assume that when you met me, I ommited the "professor of genetics" from my title. I'm not certain why, and I don't need to know. Not now." She folded her hands behind her back and took slow strides toward the window.

"I'm currently the head of a project involving progenation. We are building a machine that - given the ample ingreditions for construction - will take a given tissue sample, isolate a diploid cell, and split it into haploids. If all goes well, it will recombine the chromosomes to produce a genetic offspring of the donor. We're hoping it will help repopulate endangered species, as well as - Doctor?"

Fred could not have known that his face had gone ashen. _Diploids - haploids - the Hath - _his mind was reeling - _progenation - accelarated extrapolation - _Jenny.

_Jenny_.

He felt his knees weakening at the acceleration of his mental synapses, and laid a hand on Jack's shoulder for support. Jack wrapped an arm around his torso, keeping Fred on his feet.

"You okay, Doc?" Jack asked, his voice full of concern. River came to stand by his side, her face an echo of Jack's.

"I will be." Fred kept his voice firm and went on, "Have you lot invented accelarated cloning yet?"

"Of course," River replied with a slow nod. "Part of the progenation machine's schematics are based on that technology. Why?"

"Can't tell you now - fried human brain's no good unless you're Hannibal Lechter - here, would you pass me the coral?" River handed him the piece of TARDIS, and he sighed as the healing effect enveloped him. Pain still clung along the edges, but he was able to focus once more.

"Jack, your sonic came from a Chulan?" At his nod, Fred continued, "any chance you lifted anything more helpful? Something with healing properties, perhaps?"

Jack shook his head ruefully and shrugged an arm out from under his backpack strap. Fred waited with baited breath until Jack's hand emerged with a cylindrical metal canister. "Nanogenes," he explained to River as Jack made to hand him the package.

"No," Fred stated with emphasis. "Not yet. Got any other vortex manipulators in that bag of tricks?"

"Never leave home without 'em," Jack answered with a cheeky grin. Fred swallowed his annoyance and turned to River: "Take the other one. The two of you need to set coordinates for the planet Messaline."

Jack pulled out his second manipulator and handed it to River, who deftly strapped it onto her wrist. "When?" was all she asked.

Fred would never forget the date. "6012, July the 24th." The day he'd been given another daughter - another Time Lord. She'd died in his arms within hours of her birth. _First my own family, then Rose, then Jenny - and _again _Rose ... _Fred tightened his grip on the coral. It was all he had left.

His throat felt full, his heart close to breaking, but he had to go on. He'd told Rose to wait for the Doctor, and he planned on making good on that promise. Fred gritted his jaw and stood at his full height.

"On that day," he told them, "a tissue sample was taken from me. You'll need to set those manipulators so that you're out of sight when it happens, then bring the sample back here."

They nodded and continued to look at him expectantly. "That's all I'm going to tell you for now." River frowned, and he went on: "Faulty parts, remember? I need to be conscious in order for this to work."

"We got it," Jack assured him, and set to work on his wristband. River glanced at Jack's handiwork, and began to mimic it. The two of them made eye contact, nodded, and vanished just as Fred remembered something that might be important:

"They're at war," he sighed into the empty room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Notes:

Dialogue between River Song and Jack Harkness = not easy to write. I didn't want to explore River's character too much, since her mystery is part of the appeal. Was a lot of fun to write, though! This chapter is the deep breath before the plunge.

**Chapter Eleven: The River of Time**

_"Time is a uniform River  
without beginning or end,  
without source or sink,  
and all events are carried  
by the River's flow."  
-"The River of Time," by Igor Dmitrievich Novikov,  
theoretical astrophysicist/cosmologist_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

6012, July the 24th  
Messaline

"Progenation," said the Doctor. "Reproduction from a single organism. Means one parent is biological mother _and_ father."

Jack and River materialized within seconds of one another, each behind the same long strip of rippled tin. Jack's eyebrows rose at the sound of the Doctor's voice, and he made to peek out from their flimsy barrier.

River grabbed his knee and hauled him back under cover. "Don't!" she whispered through gritted teeth. "That's _not_ the man we were just with."

Jack frowned and rubbed his leg where her fingers had dug in. "No need to get grabby," he scolded softly. "There's plenty enough to go around."

River crouched down, pressing a finger to her mouth. "We can't risk him discovering us."

Jack smiled sarcastically. "Really? Because I wanted so badly to cause a mind-curdling paradox. I know how to be careful," he added.

She pursed her lips and didn't reply.

"Something's coming," warned a girl's voice. Many footsteps gained volume as they approached, and Jack and River locked eyes when someone else shouted: "It's the Hath!"

"Get down!" the girl cried.

Shots of automatic gunfire rang out, the stumble of bodies echoing through the cavern as everyone sought cover. River and Jack drew up their knees and tucked in their heads, bracing themselves for impact. A few of the soldiers drew dangerously close to their hiding spot -their harsh breathing penetrated the tin's poor sound barrier. The Doctor's voice was barely heard in the cacophany, though they could not make out the words.

Everything was chaos. Then someone screamed:

"No!" It was a high-pitched cry, immediately muffled. Jack clenched his fist - he'd recognised Martha's voice. River laid a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see compassion warring with the resolve in her eyes. He nodded slightly. This was all in the past - sort of. He knew she would make it to safety.

The Doctor, too, had heard her cry for help. "Martha!" he shouted.

Thunder clapped, and they could make out the tell-tale cascade of dirt as the cavern was sealed off. All was silent for a few precious seconds, until the Doctor began to argue with the soldier girl. Jack heaved a sigh of relief. Their precarious shelter appeared to have held.

"Her name's _Martha_," came a woman's voice. "And she's not _collateral damage,_ not for anyone. Have you got that, G.I. Jane?"

River smiled and shook her head ruefully. "Donna," she mouthed to Jack. He broke into a dimpled grin - for the brief time he'd known her, the woman had been the personification of spunk. But how had River come to meet Donna? His grin faded, and he turned back to the sound of voices.

"I'm taking you to General Cobb," said a male soldier, and the sound of footsteps receded.

Jack made eye contact with River, who gestured sideways with her head. Jack nodded, and slowly peered along the side of the tin. They appeared to be alone, but he inched forward in a crouch. One could never be too careful.

Finally satisfied at their safety, Jack called softly to River: "All clear."

She got to her feet and started toward what remained of the progenation machine. He made an appreciative note of her curvy yet slim figure, tucked away inside khaki pants and a dark blue pull-over. River gestured for him to cover her, and she knelt before the large, cylindrical contraption.

"So," he began, scanning the cavern for intruders, "how's a girl like you end up in a place like this, with a guy like me?" There was a sound of metal grating against metal, and River forced open a red panel along its side.

"Sonic," she ordered and held out her hand, squinting into the circuitry. Jack pulled out the sonic screwdriver, dropping it onto her palm with a sigh. River switched on the device, and appeared to scan the machine's insides.

"Well?" he asked, keeping an eye out for trouble.

She glanced up at him. "Well, what?"

"How'd you meet the Doctor?" he persisted. This woman was a mystery he wanted solved.

River winced and shook out her hand as sparks flew from the progenator. She sucked on her index finger, peering into the inner workings. "It's a long story," she finally responded.

"So is any story worth the telling," he replied, and she looked up again to smile at him.

"Fair enough," she admitted. "Got any gloves?" Jack slung his backpack onto his chest, and reached into to fetch a pair of thick leather gloves. He handed them to her, and she nodded her thanks before slipping them on. Jack continued to look at her expectantly, and she sighed before returning to her tinkering.

"Very well. We're in the midst of a love affair, if you must know." Jack's eyebrows shot up, and she smiled. "Not the answer you were expecting?"

"I was under the impression that he already had someone," he said slowly.

River chuckled. "Oh, he does. There's Rose, and then there's me."

Jack reminded himself to keep watch, but continued his line of questioning: "He might be a lady killer, but he doesn't seem the sort to manage two serious relationships at the same time. I don't think he could handle it."

"Too true," she agreed, reaching her arm into the gears as though searching for something.

Jack paused in contemplation. "So you're having a love affair with the Doctor, and so is Rose. But you agree that he can't handle it?" He scratched his head. "No offense, Professor, but all of this lovey-dovey stuff just doesn't seem his style."

"It isn't," River replied with a nod.

He puffed out his cheeks, blew out the air and decided to try out a different tack: "What exactly is the "little blue book" the Doctor was talking about?"

"Spoilers," she told him with a grunt, yanking a few loose cables out of the progenator.

"Spoilers?" Jack was bewildered. "For what?"

River sighed and stood upright. She put the sonic screwdriver on top of the red panel, and set her hands on her hips. "Not going to shut up, are you?"

"Not a chance," he replied with his best grin, and chuckled inside when she couldn't keep from smiling back.

"Alright, Captain Jack. I'll give you your answers." She took the gloves off and handed them back to him, reaching up to re-tie her ponytail. "The book is from my past and present, and the Doctor's future. We are what you might call star-crossed lovers. Our meetings don't work in an ordinary progression, so I keep track of it all with a journal."

"Then the spoilers are for him, and there's no reason you can't tell me about it," Jack concluded with a smug smile.

River chuckled. "Nothing is ever simple when it comes to people like us."

Jack frowned. "Don't go changing the subject," he began slowly.

"Spoilers for the reader," she explained patiently.

He screwed up his face. "I don't follow," he admitted.

"I am an author," she continued. "I follow the actions of others and record them."

"Hang on - I thought you were a professor of genetics and archeology," he protested.

"You're paying attention," she praised him with a smile. "Good boy. Now, what do you know of quantum theory?"

Jack chose to ignore her patronizing remark. "Enough to get by when the universe is collapsing," he responded wryly. "Why?"

"Every time a choice is made, a new reality is born to suit that decision. Authors keep track of the outcome." River extended her arms wide. "The universe is a very big place, as you know. There are nearly an infinite amount of authors, and they're hardly enough to cover it. There also exist a very large quantity of doctors and teachers."

Jack kept his eye on the cavern as River paused in her explanation, and he glanced at her to see if she was going to continue.

"My areas of study are just something I do - a title," she went on, bending down to wave the sonic screwdriver over various wires within the machine. "Being an author is what I _am_. Tell me, do you picture "The Doctor" with a capital D?"

Jack nodded.

"My sort of author would have a capital "A," she told him. "Each Author has their own equivalent of a "little blue book" with which to guide the other capital professions. The ones who choose to make a difference get the capital letters. There are more than just Authors, Doctors and Teachers, of course."

Jack turned to find River pulling a glass phial from one of her pants pockets. He tried to organize his thoughts into words: "So these professions - the kind with a capital letter - they're the ones that really give a damn about life?"

"Precisely," she nodded, fiddling with the lid of the phial. "Their efforts make a difference in reality. The butterfly effect and so on, but with a more concrete trail. Without the aid of my little book, the Doctor would have chosen another path. We would not be here - granted that had to be the case in another reality. These decisions allow room for order in the universe. Its very mathematical, and I'm sure it's all written down somewhere. If choices were never made..."

Jack looked down at her as she trailed off, reaching an entire arm inside the machine, her cheek nearly making contact with metal. "These capital professions," he prodded. "Would you say that a guy like me could be one of them?"

River craned her head to look at him, still rooting inside the machine. "I think you need to work that out for yourself, Captain."

He mulled this over, and decided to approach from yet another angle. Years of interrogation had taught him well. "You said spoilers are for the reader - you mean the Doctor, right? Isn't anyone else allowed a peek?"

She paused in her rummaging: "A fair amount of people will read from it. To observe a thing is to change it. The audience - the reader - will always play a vital role."

"Reminds me of Rocky Horror," he mused, "though I never saw it. Sounded way too much like my own life. Why should I pay for something that comes naturally?" Jack grinned at his own wit.

River shone the sonic light into the exposed depths of the machine. "We're under observation even now," she told him in between sounds of frustration. "I'll write about this later, and that's when it begins."

Jack frowned. "Sorry?" He swept his eyes across the cavern, and found no evidence of intruders.

"None of this will be possible if I hadn't taken note of it," she stated in tones of exasperation. "Don't you see?"

His eyebrows rose in consternation. "Y'know, I thought I had the Doctor pinned down as the strangest thing out there, but you take the cake."

"It's hardly my fault you can't wrap your mind around my perfectly reasonable explanation," River calmly replied.

Jack refused to let her get under his skin. "So we're being watched. Right now. Because you wrote down what we're doing for observation, which results in the present?" He looked at her questioningly, and she nodded. "How does that work?"

"Can't go any further than that," she muttered, and pulled her arm out of the progenator. "You'll have to come to your own conclusions." River stood up straight, dropping a glop of slime into the glass vial. She tightened the cap, and pocketed it. "Time we were going."

"Past time," agreed Jack, gesturing toward her vortex manipulator. "Set for return?"

River nodded. "Ready?"

His finger poised over the button, Jack came to a sudden realization: "Wait!"

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"The Doctor's DNA. What would have happened if we hadn't extracted it?" He paused, considering. "Time Lord genetics in human hands, capable of using it for their own ends." He raised a hand to his forehead, his imagination doing back-flips.

River held his eyes, but said nothing. The sound of approaching footsteps startled him:

"Go," Jack whispered. Both pressed their red buttons and dematerialized.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Adamant Citadel  
5142, April the 27th

Fred blinked at the sudden reappearance of his friends, then shook himself. _You spent enough years as a Time Lord_, he chided himself. _You know how this works._

"Got it?" he asked them anxiously.

River nodded, and Fred held the coral with one arm as she handed him the phial. He held it close for inspection, inwardly cursing his rubbish human eyesight. A bit of blue slime coated the bottom.

"The tissue sample was broken down for isolation purposes," River explained. "I'm guessing there's a plethora of DNA in that juicy little blob."

Fred closed his hand around the phial, and dropping his arm to his side, focused on River and Jack.

"So what's the plan, Doc?" Jack crossed his arms in a gesture of feigned nonchalance, while River simply looked at him, waiting patiently as ever.

Fred took a deep breath. Then he began to explain the daunting task that lay before them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Notes:

I couldn't resist using "The Raven" for this chapter's quote. It's so appropriate, and I sometimes wonder if RTD wasn't a bit inspired by it. Things are starting to gather momentum. Chapter twelve isn't the longest, but it packs a punch. Please continue to let me know what you think - your reviews mean so much! Special thanks to the wonderful Zazie for helping me with the first part of this! Also to Arvo Part's Magnificat - its eerie textures were inspirational.

And anyone have theories? Please share! They really help me out, to know I'm dropping the right hints.

**Chapter Twelve: Transformation**

_"Deep into that darkness peering,  
Long I stood there wondering, fearing,  
Doubting, dreaming dreams  
No mortal ever dared to dream before...  
While I nodded, nearly napping,  
Suddenly there came a tapping,  
As of some one gently rapping,  
Rapping at my chamber door.  
... Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'"_

-Paraphrased from "The Raven," by Edgar Allen Poe

The Adamant Citadel  
Collegium Intellectum

5142, April the 27th

Footsteps echoed along a cold stone tunnel deep within the belly of the Adamant Citadel. The arched hallway was supported by massive stone pillars, their height belying the depth of the ancient corridors. Striated beams branched upward, each crossing over the other in the Gothic pattern of old.

Fred and Jack followed River past the final columns and downward, their minds working independently while tracing her steps down a spiral staircase. Fred had long since lost track of the twists and turns, resigning himself to yet another unfortunate aspect of humanity. He took a deep breath of musty air, and barely kept from gagging at its stale flavor.

The stairwell ended abruptly in a rectangular steel door. Many colored lights shone through cobwebs along its sides, and River pressed her palm into a glowing green panel. Steam hissed as the door slid outward and sideways into a carved recession. All three filed through the gateway and into the looming darkness beyond.

There was another hiss and a loud, echoing _WHUMP_ resounded behind them. Jack spun on a heel, a wild light in his eyes as he searched the shadows. His figure was barely visible to Fred, vaguely outlined from a source of light beyond them.

"Everything alright, Captain?" came River's voice. Mist rose from between her lips, and Fred suddenly realized that the temperature had dropped significantly. He raised his hands to warm them with his breath.

Jack closed his eyes briefly, then nodded with an audible swallow. "Yeah," he muttered. "Just not a fan of tight spaces."

River nodded. "Don't worry," she assured him. "We might be underground, but these walls were built to last. The genetic branch holds information that would prove distrastrous in enemy hands. The seal is a necessary safety precaution."

She led them toward the dim light and into an underground laboratory. A strikingly cavernous room yawned before them, its lower walls lined in metal storage units and steel counters. The ceiling was improbably high, and caused Fred to experience his first dizzying sensations of vertigo. Tubes of many shades and sizes cascaded downward from the plafond, along the walls and into various machines.

Six man-sized vessels stood in the center of the cavernous room, each filled with a clear liquid. A few miniature incinerators dotted the floor, their heat presumably buffered by temperature controls. River pointed to a set of double doors at the far side of the room:

"That's the lift," she explained. "You probably noticed cobwebs on the way down. No one ever takes the stairs unless there's a power outage, and even then the seal is hardly worth the trouble of breaking. Since our activities wouldn't have been sanctioned, we had no choice but to take the long route." River shot a sympathetic glance at Jack.

He shrugged it off. "What's with the shark tanks?" he asked. "Are these your cloning pods?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes," she answered. "Since the process has been accelerated, they will spend only moments submerged. Warmth is far more suited toward germination than the air we're breathing."

Fred nodded, his mouth shaped into an 'O' as he exhaled steam. "The temperature is lower in order to maintain a sterile environment. Microbes are less apt to run wild when it's cold outside." He shivered, crossing his arms to rub them vigorously with his hands. "Although," he added, "microbes do tend toward the odd snowball fight here or there. Beats out the World Cup any day." Then he frowned to himself, "Given you've got a microscope handy- bit rubbish without one."

Jack chuckled, dimples forming as he shook his head. "Never get out, do you, Doc?"

"We haven't much time," River interjected before Fred could reply. "Doctor," she looked up and into his eyes, a serious expression at odds with her wild tendrils of hair. "This is your last chance to change your mind. Are you sure?"

Fred rose to his full height and nodded. His head still hurt from having to explain their ordeal, but he no longer held any doubts.

"Well then," she replied, "let's get started. And remember: this room is only on a visual loop for the next two hours, and fluid check is once an hour. We take no chances. Jack, the nanogenes?"

He nodded and swung his backpack forward, reaching in to hand her a metallic cylinder. "I'll keep watch at the lift," he told them, then turned to give Fred a quick salute.

"Please don't do that," he groaned.

Jack grinned and headed for the lift. "Yes, sir!" he called, and Fred sighed in exasperation.

"He admires you," River told him gently, looking up at him with a small smile. "Why deny him that comfort?"

"It's a military gesture," he replied with audible distain. River regarded him silently for a few moments, her expression unchanging, until Fred grew uncomfortable and started to fidget.

"Where is the genetic extrapolator?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

She smirked knowingly, then took his hand and led him to an upright chamber in a corner of the cavern. It appeared to be made of the same hard, clear substance as the tanks, but was built to contain twice the volume. A thin sheet of airtight material divided the booth neatly in half. Before them stood a metal pillar, its sides covered in buttons and switches, the top part supporting a tiny basin.

"Vinvacci glass. One of the strongest substances in the universe, and just big enough for two," she explained, reaching into her pocket to pull out the glass phial. "I'll place the tissue sample into the diagnostic basin, cook up a genetic cocktail, and you'll have a partner in crime within seconds." River knelt to set up the procedure, flipping switches and measuring the phial's contents.

Fred knew that what was coming could - and probably would - change him forever. He would cease to be the man that Rose had known and loved, and it pained him beyond measure. What's more, the process would be every bit as dodgy as regeneration. _No,_ he reminded himself. _At least I knew what to expect when I changed._ He felt blind and desperate, but he knew this to be his sole means of survival. They had gone over the possibility of a brain transplant, but Fred would not leave Donna behind. The Ood had warned him of his need for her humanity, and experience had taught him to take them at their word.

This was the only way.

Fred found himself focusing on the booth's vaguely familiar shape, and frowned as its edges began to blur. The chamber doors fluctuated, shifting ever so slightly as though a thing alive. An eerie feeling of deja-vous crept over him, and he shuddered.

"Doctor," asked River, her voice concerned, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he quickly assured her. "Fine - just... I have the strangest feeling. Like I've been here before." He licked his lips, trying not to think too hard about what he was witnessing. "In another life."

River's eyebrows rose. "Another incarnation?"

"No," Fred said slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration. "With these eyes. A fixed point," he breathed. "And its almost as if..." and his voice grew softer with each word, "almost as if I can remember-"

The clear doors of the chamber were now pulsating with a reddish glow, putting him uneasily into the mind of the TARDIS' Cloister Bell.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, four soft knocks resounded.

Fred's eyes widened, every hair on his body suddenly standing on end. All sense of time was lost.

Then:

"Doctor!"

Fred nearly jumped out of his skin. He covered his face with his hands, dragging them along the muscle to help restore circulation. Something was gripping his arm, and he glanced down to find River staring up at him in alarm. He shook his head to clear it, filling his chest with air and letting it out slowly.

"I'm fine." His voice was shaky, but he held firmly to her gaze. "I'm ready."

River frowned and chewed on her lip, weighing him with her eyes. "You're sure?"

Instead of answering, Fred reached forward and opened the clear chamber door. He glanced back at her, then stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He nodded, swallowing hard and clenching his fists at his sides.

"Do it," he told her, his voice ringing in command even as it was muted by the booth.

River nodded in return, and twisted open the glass phial. She turned it upside down, allowing the gelatinous goo to fall onto the diagnostic basin, before tossing the phial into a nearby incinerator. She took one more glance at Fred's determined expression, then reached down and threw the switch.

Liquid culture medium flooded into the adjacent chamber from one of the massive wall tubes. Fred instinctively dodged the splattering of liquid against the clear plastic sheet beside him. His heart hammered at his ribs, and he forced himself to slow his breathing. The vessel beside him was soon filled to its capacity, where a miracle of science had begun to take place:

A tiny speck of beige manifested itself within inches of Fred, expanding quicker than thought into the shape of a man. Dark hair undulated in the life-bringing soup, and Fred's breath caught to witness himself as a fully formed newborn. Those were _his_ hands, _his_ feet. Down to the pattern of freckles on his skin, this new version of him was genuine.

Then why was he shaken? Given that Time Lords were woven into life on genetic looms, he ought to have expected this. And yet, offspring on Gallifrey had been raised from infancy - not like Jenny on Messaline. How could he have prepared himself for a grown double? The clone's eyes were closed, features peaceful as his chest rose and fell, breathing fluid without thought.

Fred caught movement at the corner of his eye, and turned to see Jack at River's side. He was eyeing the clone appreciatively, a huge smile blooming on his face. Fred recognized that look, and in the same instant realized what had caused it: his clone was naked as the day he was born. Literally!

"Can I keep him?" Jack asked hopefully, his voice slightly muffled through the clear barrier. Thankfully, River saved Fred the trouble of answering - she elbowed him in the ribs and shoved him toward to the lift. Jack sighed regretfully, then trudged back to his post, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to visually praise the naked form.

River rolled her eyes, and Fred mouthed a "thank you." She nodded, the corners of her mouth quirking into a smile. Suddenly his attention was drawn back to his _other_ other self: fireflies were flitting across his skin, floating back and forth between the airtight barrier in an incandescent cloud.

But these weren't fireflies - these were nanogenes.

Fred's eyes clouded in memory. Rose and Jack in the London Blitz, saving a little boy, his mother, and curing those with the gasmask plague. And just that once, everyone had lived. It was a memory worth saving, and he silently thanked River for her brilliance. She had found a way for him to retain all of his memories, though he might never recall them in the same light.

Tiny glowing motes encircled Fred and his clone, flying along their edges and insides, recognizing and comparing, cataloging and restoring. As he felt his mind begin to change, Fred turned toward the lift.

Jack stood before the doors, feet planted slightly apart, hands folded behind his back. He was as vigilant and comforting a presence as ever, and Fred felt a rush of gratitude toward his steadfast friend. The earth began to tilt beneath his feet, and he saw with his inner eye the alignment of planets, stars, and galaxies. Jack was smiling at him, the warm glow of nanogenes soothing the lines of weariness from his brave, handsome face.

Fred felt his knees buckle, and he saw no more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Notes:

This took two weeks to complete instead of the average one, and I am sorry about that. Hopefully it was worth the time! This is the final chapter, but I will continue as soon as I've finished with another project - trying to tackle writing a novel. No easy feat! But I *will* finish this. Again.. all themes are already laid out, it's just a matter of getting them typed. And sometimes the characters act of their own accord! I can't be held responsible for what they do, heh!

Please let me know what you thought about this. All reviews are so very, very much appreciated. Especially here, at the end of all things!

**Chapter Thirteen: Emergence**

_"A tapestry is being stitched  
Story by story, step by step,  
Thread by thread  
Pictures of her life come alive with threads of gold,  
Of silver, of royal purple,  
Of hope, of faith, of love  
Her story unfolding in the fabric,  
The knitted tapestry of her life..."  
- Raymond A. Foss_

"Imagine yourself a caterpillar.  
There's an awful shrug and, suddenly,  
You're beautiful for as long as you live. "  
- Steven Dunn

The Adamant Citadel  
Collegium Intellectum

Jack's dimpled smile vanished, all playful reminiscences gone at Fred's sudden collapse. He hastily abandoned his post to kneel beside his fallen friend, and River was tugging his limp body into her lap, laying two fingers against the pale skin, then exhaling in relief at the evident pulse. She looked up at Jack and, taking his hand in her trembling fingers, held it gently against the right side of Fred's chest, then the left.

Jack inhaled through his teeth with a whistle - two separate hearts were beating discordantly beneath his palm. Jack looked questioningly at River, who was gently smoothing Fred's hair.

"His physical form has been altered," she responded to his unspoken question. "The body and mind of a Time Lord, but I'm afraid there's still something missing." She laid her palm against his forehead in trepidation. "He shouldn't be unconscious like this."

"Shock?" Jack suggested. "Can't be easy, suddenly coping with a second heart." He smirked slowly at her, "Although, I _could _do with another-"

"The Vortex!" she interrupted him, looking up at the Doctor's suspended clone. "All regenerative energy comes from the Vortex," she breathed, then shifted her focus to Jack. "It's necessary for all of his other senses," she explained, "seeing all of the time lines, knowing where the abberrations lie. The dual-circulatory system is meant to power those Time Lord senses."

River glanced worriedly at Fred's peaceful expression, pressing both hands against his chest. "The Time Vortex thickens the blood, Jack, and right now those hearts are pumping everything through his body with twice the necessary force. That explains why he passed out - his body is overcompensating." She swallowed hard and looked up at Jack: "He's suffering from severe anemia. We need to get him to the TARDIS!"

Jack gritted his jaw and nodded. "Should we wake him up?"

River opened her mouth to reply, but Jack suddenly covered her mouth with his hand. "Did you hear that?" he whispered, letting go as she slowly nodded.

There was a distant _clang_ from the direction of the lift, and both looked on in horror as its digital display began to count down from floor 81.

River cursed and shoved Fred's torso into Jack's arms. "We're out of time," she sighed, and rose to her feet. Her fingers worked at the armband surrounding her wrist, finally biting it with her teeth to pull it free.

She threw it at Jack: "Get him out of here!"

Jack caught the armband, but wasn't about to be so easily dismissed. "What about you?" he demanded. "If they catch out you down here, it'll be the end of your professional life."

River stood before the Doctor's clone, her eyes wide, and gently pressed her fingertips to the clear glass. "More than my life," she whispered.

Jack slung Fred's arm over his shoulder and moved to her side. "River, you have to get out of here. I'll be fine with just the one - please, take it," he pleaded, trying to give her the extra armband.

"No," she answered with surprising force, turning to face Jack and immediately disarming him. "I know your kind, Captain Jack," she continued, pointing his own blaster gun at him and slowly backing away. "You've got a hero complex, but you have to trust me - I can't be saved because this _needs_ to happen," she pleaded.

Jack took a step back, shifting the Fred's body as he weighed his options. His attention flickered to the lift display - now at floor 65 - and back to River's threatening pose.

"I don't understand-" he began.

"You don't need to, Captain," she interrupted firmly. "This is a fixed point. The Doctor would tell you that. Now _go_, while there's still time!"

"But he's alive," Jack realized aloud, lifting his chin to gaze at the Doctor's suspended identical copy. "What happens to him?"

River said nothing, but he would have been blind to miss the trouble in her eyes. "River," he repeated in dangerous tones, "what are you going to do with him?"

She licked her lips. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

River swiveled, aimed the gun upward, and shot an electrical line where it crossed one of the fluid tubings. The wire sparked and broke into the tube, flooding the culture medium with bolts of electricity. Lightning roared into the Vinvacci chamber, and River and Jack had to shield their eyes from the bright intensity. Abruptly, everything faded and Jack lowered his hand, blinking away the blinding shadows of residual light.

The Doctor's clone had been annihilated. Nothing remained of him but bits of skin, bone and blood, which River promptly sent into an incinerator hot enough to withstand the temporary lack of oxygen. She dropped to her knees, the blaster gun hanging limply at her side. Her eyes were shining, lips quivering with suppressed emotion.

Jack's mind was a whirlwind. Part of him knew what she'd done had been necessary, and that humanity could never hold the power of Time Lord DNA. It was far too dangerous. The other part of him - the part holding Fred's body, feeling the mad beat of his hearts against his ribs, all of that _life _- knew that River Song had just murdered a perfect replica of the most important, most magnificent, most _benevolent_ being he'd ever known. His stunned silence ended abruptly as he stared blankly into the incinerator:

"What have you _done?_" Jack whispered harshly, his chest heaving as adrenaline surged and tears rose to his eyes. Still holding Fred's dead weight, he bent down, grabbed River's wrists and hauled her to her feet. "That was the Doctor! And I don't care if it was a clone - he had every right to live!"

River's jaw clenched as she looked Jack in the eye: "_I know_," she countered, shaking her wrists free. "But that wasn't _our_ Doctor."

Jack took a tiny step forward, using his height to full advantage and glaring down at River. "It wasn't your choice to make!" he shouted, "we could have taken him with us!"

"And do what, Jack?" she cried, clenching her fists at her sides. "The genetic fluid would have leaked all over! It's not his body that made the Doctor who he was, it was his _mind_ - his experiences, his feelings, instincts, intellegence," her voice was desparate as she glanced at the lift display, "and we've only got thirty seconds left and I'm sorry, really, I'm _so_ sorry, Jack, but it was the only way."

Jack looked down into her eyes and wondered at her resolve, then shook his head in disgust. It was beyond him. Too much had happened in too little time and it was getting to be too much, even for Captain Jack Harkness. Voices rang from the lift shaft, and he took a few hasty steps back.

"They'll lock you up in Stormcage for this. You'll be imprisoned for life!" He held out his hand one last time, gesticulating with his fingers.

She shook her head, backing away. "Go. Now," she commanded.

_Fine_, Jack thought to himself. _What a waste_. He held tightly to Fred, and opened the flap on his wristband. The last thing he saw was River mouthing "thank you" to him, clasping her hands behind frizzy hair before she was surrounded by black-garbed men.

~*~

Hotel Zeddz'ull  
Zagizalgul, Zog  
2012, January 5th

Fred felt lighter than a feather. His fingers brushed against the silky surface of what could be bed sheets. Clutching weakly at the fabric, he wondered at both his waning strength and the intensity of silken threading beneath his skin. His head was gently throbbing in a syncopated rhythm, and Fred realized with a start that he was feeling two hearts beating within his chest. He inhaled and froze at the acute rush of scents, his fuzzy mind struggling to catalogue each one: _petroleum distillates mingling with_ - he wrinkled his nose - _formaldehyde? Ah, of course - air freshener! Iris Rhysomes - cologne? - and... something else, something wrong -_

- he slowly opened his eyes and nearly jumped at the sight of Jack. Fred struggled to support his own weight beneath his elbows, straining to get some distance between the two of them.

"Easy now, tiger," Jack soothed, leaning toward the bedside table to pick up a glass of orange liquid. "You can't have a lot of energy in that bag of bones. Time for your medicine." He forced a dimpled grin, trying to make light of their situation.

Fred closed his eyes and immediately regretted it. With the loss of sight came another sense - he could feel the Earth's tilt and movement around the sun. His fists clenched at the sheets, and he quickly opened his eyes against the ensuing dizziness.

"I can see it," he said faintly. Jack raised a questioning eyebrow. "The anomaly," Fred explained. "Time lines shifting around you. I'd forgotton how wrong you are."

At Jack's cynical chuckle, Fred frowned and went on: "Was a bit of a shock, that's all. So, what's in that?" He gestured toward the glass held in Jack's hand, and stared in shock at the brown sleeve covering his arm.

For the first time since waking, Fred took in his own appearance: he was wearing his brown suit with the blue pinstripes! His hands rose to find a light blue shirt, and he tugged at a brown tie with wavy blue swirls.

"How -" he began, scrunching up his face in confusion.

"Jackie," Jack explained, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out a folded note. "I found this in your dry-cleaning."

Fred took the paper, reaching for his glasses before recalling their absence. _Shame she couldn't find a matching pair of specs_, he reflected to himself. At least they were just for show. His still-weak fingers unfolded the note, smoothing it out on his lap:

_"Dear Fred,"_ it began, "_I took your clothes to the drycleaners myself so Rose wouldn't get suspicsus. Then I got to thinking that if I got your mesurments, I could find a copy of your brown suit that Rose always liked at Henriks. Stole a photo from her room and went on a proper quest and it turns out they had the shirt and tie too! I remember its what you wore at Christmas when you were first the new you. Stands to say it might jog her memory a bit and help her accsept you. You stayed behind for her, gave up the stars to be with my daughter. I think you both deserve a bit of happiness._

You can pay me back in diaper duty.

Jackie"

Fred reached up to massage the lump in his throat, then tilted his chin up to stare at the watery ceiling. He rested his tongue behind his teeth and slowly brought a breath of sweet air into his open mouth. _Jackie Tyler,_ he thought. _I underestimated her. Just as I had underestimated Rose._ Shutting the door to those thoughts - and inwardly noting the new ability to do so - he turned again to face Jack.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Jack nodded. "What do you remember?" he asked.

"Don't remember you stripping me naked, if that's what you're asking," Fred replied smugly.

Jack barked a short laugh. "Don't ask, don't tell," he jibed with a wink and cheeky grin.

Fred crossed his arms and decided to change the subject. He took in his surroundings, and surmised that he and Jack had landed themselves in a fancy hotel room. Just the two of them, though?

"Where's River?" he asked with sudden concern.

Jack had prepped himself for the question. Humans were easy, but a Time Lord was beyond his powers of persuasion. He needed to tread carefully and avoid any outright lies. Jack was no Doctor, but he knew Fred's fragile hearts could not handle his possible reaction to the truth.

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

Fred's brow wrinkled. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

Jack affected a sigh and went on: "She wouldn't come with us. Said it was a fixed point and needed to stay. Does that make any sense to you?"

"I suppose so," Fred replied with a slow nod. His hand trembled slightly as he fidgeted with his tie. "There are fixed events in time that cannot be altered. You're one of them," he added.

"I thought I remembered you saying something like that," Jack agreed, glad steer the conversation away from River. "And speaking of time, it's past time you took your medicine." He fetched the orange concoction and held it out to Fred, who made a face as a took it from him. He brought it to his nose and took a long sniff, dipped a finger in and licked it, rolling the medicine around his tongue.

Jack swallowed and repositioned his legs.

"Iron," Fred concluded, smacking his lips. "Lots and lots of iron. And orange juice. I take it my red blood cell count is down? Suppose it would account for the weakness," he added, looking up to the ceiling in thought. Then he brought the glass to his lips, opened his mouth and chugged it in one fell swoop.

"I'd love to see what else you can do with that mouth," Jack breathed wistfully.

Fred set the empty glass on the nightstand with a solid _thunk,_ and nodded toward the door. "Judging by that note - written in sonic! there's a language of love if there ever was - you've got other plans," he drawled with a cheeky grin, then leapt out of the bed and ran fingers through his ever-wild hair. "Feeling much better, thank you! Good old Time Lord metabolism, always good in a pinch - now, I think we've got a date with the TARDIS?"

"You heard River?" Jack asked before he could stop himself, then inwardly cursed his traitorous tongue.

Fred frowned at Jack's odd behavior, but shook his head lightly. He bounced eagerly on his heels - his timey-wimey senses were back! Stars and planets and cascades of galaxies were flowing around him and he could finally _feel_ it!

And... _oh,_ he _missed_ Rose (and even Jackie). He always would, even if she faded to a voice of conscience beside Donna. Memories like hers could never be forgotten.

And yet - the universe was singing to him. It was calling him home. He closed his eyes and gingerly prodded at his severed connection to the Time Vortex. He needed his TARDIS.

Reaching out with his mind, Fred felt her presence just out of Earth's orbit, and his eyes suddenly opened wide. He launched himself at Jack's vortex manipulator, rapidly keying in her coordinates

"Whoah, whoah!" Jack exclaimed. "What's got into you?"

"He's regenerating," Fred told him hastily, wrapping an arm around Jack to ensure safe travel. "We've got to jump. _Now_," he commanded.

Jack swallowed and jammed his thumb onto the red button.

~*~

Showers of sparks erupted from the TARDIS console, bits of coral flying through the air as Fred and Jack materialized on the metal grating. The Doctor was an image of dazzling light, golden fire shooting from his outstretched arms and tilted head.

Fred wasted no time with thought. He flew from Jack's arms to his other self, plunging his hands into undiluted Vortex energy. He felt it enter through his fingertips, up through his arms and into his face, neck, torso, and legs. A river of fire coursed through his veins, igniting his blood and causing him to bend backward and scream with the torture and ecstasy of so much _life_, as if the entire universe were flowing through him, rippling around him and changing him-

He was vaguely aware of Jack grabbing hold of the Doctor, but too far gone to acknowledge either of them. Fred could feel himself morphing, every cell in his body transforming into something else. A part of him was grateful for the body River had given him, or he would surely have died at first contact with his other self. But most of him was in awe of the changes being made to his entire physical form.

Bone structure began to reinvent itself even as his skin shifted, stretching and squeezing with the Vortex, sculpting his atoms into something entirely new. Strength began to flow into unused muscle tissue, his hearts beating health into this unfamiliar body. The golden flood began to temper itself within his bloodstream, and he finally heard himself screaming.

He stopped, feeling both sheepish and stunned at the strength of his own lungs. _Blimey!_ Fred chided himself, taking a moment to reflect before taking stock of his new self. Another new self! How many had he gone through today? At least his knees weren't buckling this go-round. Or were they? He couldn't feel his legs!

Fred looked down and heaved a quick sigh of relief. "Legs!" he cried, stooping to kiss a raised knee. "I've still got legs! Good," he breathed, his mind racing frantically. The whole of the universe was at his fingertips, and he wasn't about to let any missing body parts stop him!

After a careful evaluation, a frightful scare and another disappointment at not being ginger, Fred concluded that he was - _again_ - a tall, skinny male in dire need of a haircut. _But what am I missing?_

"There's something else," he thought aloud. "Something important. I'm - I'm-" he tapped his fingertips vigorously against his temporal lobe to jog his latent memory,"I'm-"

There was a huge explosion and Fred fell to his knees against the console. He laughed in delight at his sudden realization:

"Crashing!" he cried with an enormous grin, getting to his feet and spitting out the residue of Jack's iron cocktail. _Yeurgh!_ No more orange juice this go-round, thank you very much!

He felt the TARDIS whirling and somersaulting its way toward the Earth, and he circled the console, whooping with pure joy and exhilaration. The display readout spelt danger, circles converging on the screen to indicate the tricky games gravity was playing with him. _Oh, but I _love games, he thought, laughing aloud at the sheer wonder of being alive.

_Hmm_, he wondered to himself, _now what's a good word to use when falling? ... aAh! The Apache man who rode his horse off a cliff! That's it!_

_"GERONIMO!" _he shouted exultantly. Fred was falling - oh, yes, he was falling, and he felt trouble whipping up a storm - but it was going to be one hell of a ride!

2012, February 23rd  
Cardiff, England

Rose opened her bleary eyes at Jackie's insistant nudging. She'd fallen asleep on her mother's shoulder, huddled on the floor of the Cannon bay. Rubbing at her tired eyes with her knuckles, Rose muttered, "What is it?"

Footsteps approached from the direction of the circle of mirrors, and all of the tiny hairs on the back of Rose's neck stood on end. She swallowed and looked up, leaning her hand on Jackie's shoulder for support. Jack held the limp form of the Doctor in his arms, and slowly knelt before her. He laid him on the ground between them, before reaching out to press his fingertips to her cheek.

"Rose," he said simply. Jack's eyes were shadowed, and his face seemed pale. _He looks so tired,_ she thought. _What did he suffer through, bringing the Doctor to me? _

She looked down at the Doctor, and laid her hand against his chest. _Two hearts._ Rose clamped her lips tightly to keep them from trembling, swallowing the lump in her throat, then reached up to hold Jack's hand against her cheek.

"I'm here," she told him gently. She didn't need to be a psychiatrist to realize that Jack had been through a lot. She'd had her rest, and now she was needed. "The Doctor," she began, almost choking on the "d" sound. "Is he... ?"

Jack squeezed her hand. "He was regenerating. Fred took the vortex energy into himself. Don't worry," he soothed quickly at her alarmed expression, "he was ready for it." Jack sighed at the unconscious Doctor, gently shaking his head. "It's a long story," he admitted.

Rose nodded. "Then come home with us and get some sleep, yeah? You can tell us all about it in the mornin'," she told him by way of invitation.

"Yeah," he agreed with a smile. "I'd appreciate that."

Though slightly off balance from his lack of flirtation, Rose quickly recovered her wits. "Here, I'll help you carry him," she offered. Jack took the Doctor's right arm and Rose took his left, and together they lifted his body between them.

"Anythin' I can do?" Jackie offered.

Rose winced. She'd completely forgotton about her mother! "No, 'salright, Mum," she replied. "We got it. Unless you could have Dad come and pick us up?"

A pink cellphone was in Jackie's hand before Rose could finish voicing her request. She turned and nearly jumped out of her skin:

The Doctor was awake.

He was struggling to face her. She reached out and tilted his head toward her, supporting his jaw in her right hand. "Doctor?" she asked softly, not knowing what else to say.

This was the moment she had been waiting for - here, in her arms, was _her_ Doctor. She struggled to keep her footing, biting her lower lip as the Doctor's hand slowly ascended. His eyes met hers, and he took her hand away from his face, holding it in his own. It took a visible effort to hold his head up of his own accord. His pupils were huge, brown and black orbs darting back and forth in earnest as they looked into hers.

He threaded his fingers through her smaller ones, his eyebrows curving upward at the touch of their familiar clasp. Time stopped for Rose, yet her heart raced as the Doctor opened his dry, cracked lips:

"Rose?" he whispered.

~*~

**Epilogue**

Stormcage Holding Facility  
Somewhere in Time

River Song rested her head back on her folded arms and sighed. She lay sprawled upon her bed, idly kicking her heels while rain steadily beat against the tiny windows. The miniscule dots making up the ceiling had long since been counted, along with the individual blocks that made up her cell. Each number was accounted for in lipstick on the wall.

The steady booted footsteps of a watchman echoed along the curved stone corridor. Did they really think she was daft enough to attempt the same escape maneuver? River snorted in derision. She'd obviously not made much of an impression.

At the same time, perhaps appearing dull and stupid wasn't such a bad idea. She knew that her hallucogenic lipstick trick was bound to fail a second time, but what if she played the ditzy flirt? _It's a thought, _she admitted to herself, though most of her was too proud to give it any real mind.

River turned onto her side and reached beneath the bed to fetch her journal. She idly flipped through the pages, wondering where the universe would send her next. She frowned, and blew a lock of curls out of her face. She wouldn't allow herself to be moved by self-pity. Clone or no clone, she'd killed a man. A very good man. The best man she'd ever known, even if it was only a copy. His mind had been blank. All of the parts were there, but that didn't make him the real Doctor.

Did it?

_No,_ she assured herself. He could have grown into a tyrant, a blight on the universe, given the wrong living conditions. She'd been right in her course of action.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to have the Doctor here to reassure her. She'd be able to tell him someday, and until then, she would bide her time. Chewing on a fingernail, River sorted through the stories and poetry within her mind. Telling stories always helped, even if there was no one to listen.

"Once upon a time," she began, "there lived a little girl in a great, empty house. There were plenty of rooms and a warm fireplace, but no one to share it with. The little girl grew lonely," River went on in tones of sorrow, "until one day something very strange happened."

River took the glass of water from her nightstand and swallowed a mouthful. I'll find a way out, she promised herself, before setting the glass back in its proper place.

"Where was I? Ah, yes. Something very strange, very mysterious." River smiled softly to herself. "A tiny crack had suddenly appeared in her bedroom wall . . ."

River reminded herself that she was clever, and after all - time was on her side.

~*~

_Fin._


End file.
